Sagittarius
by FortheBitterSweet
Summary: Follow the transformation of Alexandro from one of many in the vast domains of the Imperium of Mankind into one of the noble Space Marines belonging to the Sagittarians chapter. This is my attempt at a long Space Marine novella purely based on WH40K.
1. Introduction

**Introduction to 'Sagittarius' by TheEmperorProtects**

Hey guys, this is just a little note to clarify everything before you read this novel. This is work in progress, something I'm tinkering around with over the next year or so starting next week. And since I have courses at school and such, I might upload a new chapter every couple of weeks depending on the workload, not that I'll necessarily stick to it so don't bug me if I don't keep the deadline.

For those of you who are confused with the story line any time soon, I suggest you read my Index Astartes for the Sagittarians which can be found at my fanfiction site and if that isn't satisfactory to your questions, be sure to submit a review along with your praises and criticisms (honestly I welcome harsh comments without the derogatory words since it really helps be evaluate and develop myself into a better writer, I'm not aiming for a degree in English for university) and I'll look into it as soon as I can and edit the Index.

The concept of this proud chapter slowly came into being over the course of a couple of years whilst procrastinating in class and daydreaming (honestly, it's a good source of inspiration to you writer initiates), the names themselves have been well researched (especially the name of Pabilsag, the chapter keep) all horse related, the chapter name came to me once I read the Horus Heresy novel 'False Gods' (or Horus Rising my memory currently fails me) on how the Emperor himself stated that Horus, the star ascendant, was most like the constellation Sagittarius, commanding vast armies in the Great Crusade. It is only now that I've decided to write it out because I think that my knowledge in the English language is good enough, my knowledge of the Warhammer 40000 universe is satisfactory (though never reading the codex or playing the tabletop, I've been an avid fan of the Dawn of War RPG games and the Black Library books) and that I have the drive and commitment to continue.

And if somehow this story reaches superstardom in this site or even, Throne forbid, piques the interests of the Black Library itself then I'll be overjoyed and might even write sequels to this story in-the-making. You might recognize a hint of a few authors in the BL already whose works I've enjoyed immensely.

Nevertheless it is going to be a long road along the path of the writer (a road that sees fewer people than The Road Less Traveled) and I will need the full support from all you guys through your reviews to keep the momentum of this story going.

This novella will mainly be focused on the toils of the young neophyte Alexandro and his transformation from a small boy into a 7-foot tall Angel of Death. For those who would like an insight as to what might come, I'm currently experimenting with the idea of him as a dreadnought by the end (unconfirmed to be the real ending) since I don't think that anyone has ever written something like that, and this 300-influence battle. What is confirmed are lots of battles with the barbaric Orks, the deceitful Eldar, the traitorous forces of Chaos, utilitarian Tau and the extragalactic Tyranids. And I will tell you right now, the Sagittarians have secrets that should not be known by the Greater Imperium and so they are more secretive than most Codex Chapters, somewhat like the Dark Angels and their successor chapters.

I hope you guys enjoy this story as it really is my first attempt (except for those random rip-offs of good stories that I made when I was in primary school) at a long novella as the most I have ever written for an essay is around 4,000 words whilst this I am planning to be at least 300,000 words (a daunting number), and even I do not know where this story is going to end, I am probably going to make this things up as I go though I do get the vaguest gist of the ending: A chant before going to battle where the odds seem to go against the brave Marines.

Without further ado, this is my work 'Sagittarius', The Emperor Protects!


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Sometimes it just comes down to a gun and a handful of faith."

-Training Manual, Chiron Armoured Regiment

*

Guardsman Pallas was shivering in fright, clutching his standard-issue lasgun against his flak breastplate with one hand as he desperately tried to get the vox system of the _Pandre's Wrath _working with the other whilst trying to make sense of what was happening around him.

As far as he knew, he was the only survivor of the attack that had seen the local fleet annihilated, they had struck so fast, boarding the ships and slaughtering the crewmen who were dazed and confused from the swift boarding with sweeps of their massive axes and sporadic bursts from their crude guns.

He remembered his first glance at the enemy, the image of their feral red eyes had burned their way into his soul as they charged out of their boarding craft and into the hapless crew within. Greenskins someone had cried, vile Orks had found their way into their system undetected and had destroyed their only means of proper resistance, now there was no stopping them reaching the ignorant planet below.

Pallas had done something that he had never done before: he ran. The act had shamed him, and he knew that any commissar that had survived the initial wave would have shot him without a second thought, labelling him as a coward in death.

Coward…

The word haunted him as the enormity of what he did gradually seeped into his head, in his ten years with the army, he had always faced the enemy head to head where he knew that his bayonet and gun would be strongest, but this time it was different. The enemy was too vast, too brutal, and so he turned his back on the enemy and sprinted like never before and hid amid the twisted wreckage of the massive grand cruiser.

But no, he was here to do some good, he was here to warn Pandor below of the danger that it was in…he hoped that was redemption enough for the craven act he did earlier.

He chanced a glance around the room which he was in, the room that _used_ to be the sanctum of the astropath whose frail body lay next to him, his fragile bones shattered after the concussive blast of a poorly aimed frag grenade found its way into the room, it was ablaze with bits of sparking machinery strewn across the floor. This was as close to hell as he was ever going to get.

Setting the lasgun down, Pallas drew out a small figurine of the God-Emperor and kissed it twice before muttering a prayer to get the vox system working whilst fiddling around with dials and buttons.

By pure luck after hitting a knob, the discordant hissing that had hounded him ever since he turned the device on suddenly gave way to silence, whispering into the microphone in fear of being discovered Pallas read the necessary cipher of the table next to the device in hopes of getting the commanding officer on the planet below, Pandor, to respond.

'This is the commander, what is the meaning of this interruption pysker?' asked a regal yet angered voice after the annoyingly calm voice transferred the vox to him, 'This better be important or else I will have you in chains for disruption.'

'My lord, this isn't the astropath." replied Pallas in a shaky voice

'Then who are you and state your reason of barging into my meeting with the Governor on a Code Red transmission?'

'I am here to warn you of…' Pallas suddenly cut off, hearing the laughs and the footsteps of conversing greenskins moving in the corridor outside the room.

'I asked you, what is the meaning of this insubordination? Answer me!'

The laughing outside stopped, Pallas knew that the orks outside had heard the commanders' outburst. He heard one ork slamming a fresh magazine into his gun and the second igniting the pilot flame of what he knew to be a flamer, grunting to one another in their guttural tongue. Knowing that his life would end in a matter of seconds, he pressed the microphone to his lips. 'The fleet is down, I repeat the fleet is down, Pandor is no longer safe, the foul orks are here, prepare for imminent invasion, the emperor protects.' he whispered.

'What? The fleet…down? That's not possible' Pallas heard, the commander had read the truth in his words and had undoubtedly heard the noises of the dying vessel through the vox and had said the words with disbelief in his voice. The grunting was closer and Pallas saw the nozzle of the flamer come around the corner a second before the ork wielding the weapon.

It was a massive specimen, bulkier and taller than any man could be, he looked up into those eyes, burning like embers, and the mouth that curled into a cruel smile. The ork lifted the flamer up and his fingers twitched at the trigger. Dropping the microphone and lifting his lasgun, Guardsman Pallas only had time to scream for his mother before he was doused in liquid flames.

Commander Eckhart of the Pandoran 42nd Regiment listened to the scream of agony that was cut short and drowned out by the roar of a flamer before the vox crackled into static. His face was grim as he put down the microphone in the conference room, a face mirrored by the audience that he was with before the transmission from _Pandre's Wrath_. The Planetary Governor amongst them had whitened, and he had flinched from the distressing noise and balled his hands into fists in terror. Eckhart inwardly grimaced in contempt, it was true how war was sweet to those who had never experienced it, and the Planetary Governor only now seemed to gain an insight into a newer side of war, one that wasn't dictated from the safety of a palace.

'It seems that the orks are within the system' whispered the Governor

'They've just run over our fleet…as if they were nothing…' said Eckhart, still not quite believing the situation himself.

'Well assemble the Guard then, they will put a stop to this madness.' cried one senator in the room which was cheered on feebly by his group of sycophants.

'They just ran over our bloody fleet,' repeated Eckhart slowly, for he was not a man to easily show his emotions unlike the rest in the room 'Don't you get it? That accounts for more than half of our forces destroyed, not by treachery but by brute force, we cannot stand against this power for long.'

'Then what will we do?' asked the Minister

'We don't know the figures of the enemy; I'm guessing that it could up to the hundreds of thousands.' This brought gasps and sighs from the crowd, Eckhart pursed his lips. 'No guard regiment reinforcements combined with our PDF can hold out for long, they will break us in a matter of months if not mere weeks.' He paused before bleakly adding, 'We must call in the only force that has a chance of ending this ork incursion, and we must call upon old oaths that were sworn to protect this planet thousands of years ago'

'You cannot mean…' trailed off the Minister looking to his right before stuttering, 'We haven't been part of the Imperial fold for a long time, they've stopped caring about us, the only Imperium we see is when the Administratum officials come down demanding our tithes. Nothing about this isolated system in the middle of nowhere will interest the Greater Imperium. And this oath was made millennia ago; do you really think that they will remember?'

'Yes, they will, for they are the Emperor's finest.' Commander Eckhart replied, following the gaze of the Governor towards a statue of a massive figure encased in armour with a mythical beast emblazoned on its pauldron, 'A sacred pledge was still made by them to protect these lands, they will not have forgotten them so readily when our founding fathers nobly fought and died alongside them, we must call in the Space Marines…'

*

As the first pinpricks of light entered the atmosphere millions of people looked up in wonder at the night sky, but Ahmed knew that the day of reckoning had come to his world. Most ignored the claims that he began making a week before, dismissing the hermit's _farfetched _claims of the end of the world. But they were wrong as he had something they didn't: small insights into the future that came to him in dreams, hidden within cryptic symbols. It was a power that only he and his flock of blessed individuals believed in. And this time he had dreamt of destruction coming to the world in an endless tide of green, drowning out the resistance like a river that had burst a dike, with deceitful forces behind using the distraction to do their own twisted works. He had only left the cities behind the day before, taking all the believers and leaving the remaining sceptics to die in their homes. Taking refuge in the mountains, he watched the fate of the world descending upon the millions of ignorant city dwellers thinking of it as a rare meteor shower. He smiled through broken teeth at the dreadful irony of how something so beautiful and dazzling was actually going to rain hot death upon endless millions.

How wrong they were…


	3. Chapter 1: One Cold Night

**Chapter 1**

"_Ride swiftly brothers, in the name of the Emperor!" – _Battle cry of the Sagittarians

*

Alexandro Julius stood amongst a crowd of many, all of whom he knew had the same dream that he had, to be amid the massive armoured giants that occupied the podium in the centre of the amphitheatre. All featureless through their glowering helmets and above three meters in height, they were the Sagittarians Space Marine Chapter and Alexandro wanted to be one of them.

One of them with more heraldry on his ornate armour, dark blue trimmed with bone white, than the rest stepped forward and slowly reached his hands up and unclasped the seal to his helmet. The hiss of pressurised air escaping quietened whatever remained of any noise in the open space, the silence was deafening as the Marine finally lifted up his helmet to reveal a broad face scarred with the reminders of numerous campaigns, he surveyed the arena quietly then nodded as if satisfied.

'I see that all you boys want to become one of the Emperors' finest' the Marine began, his voice was surprisingly mellifluous for one with a pitted face Alexandro noted, 'I am Captain Raphael of the Second Company and I will be responsible for the Trials this year.'

The Sagittarians had announced the Trials over the worldwide broadcasts the day before, pandemonium ensued as boys from all over Chiron Beta readied themselves for the Trials. And this small abandoned auditorium was the venue for the legendary event, somehow fulfilling the Astartes' desires, but abandoned no longer as the auditorium, capable of seating thousands of spectators, was almost filled with would-be aspirants.

'I can tell you now that this path you are about to undertake is not for the faint of heart,' Raphael continued, his face grim, 'that many of you will either die or fail in the attempt to become one of us.' He paused looking around briefly before continuing, 'I can tell you right now that out of all you thousands who have attended here and at the other venues dotted throughout the system, about five of you will make it as Space Marines.'

There were gasps in the crowd as the boys seemed to finally be aware of their precarious situation, and Alexandro wasn't the only one looking around the auditorium as if for the first time, the auditorium didn't seem so small after all.

'You will begin your first task immediately' said the captain much to the trepidation of the awaiting audience, 'You will spend the next sixteen hours in this amphitheatre standing without food, water or shelter from the cold. The survivors with be taken to our noble fortress monastery Pabilsag while those of you who can't go on will have to talk to our serfs' pointing at the smaller cloaked figures 'who will give you hot broth and coats before sending you back home'. The captain reached for his helmet that was clamped to his waist and put it on his head, once again covering his face with an unreadable mask, before stepping back and filing out with the other Astartes.

*

Alexandro could see his breath misting in front of him every time he exhaled.

He shivered from the intensely cold draughts that frequently invaded the open-roofed amphitheatre, he reckoned it was an hour after sunset judging by the placement of the stars above, seven long hours had past since the Astartes had left them to their fate, and there were already signs of failure.

By now only half of the original two thousand had remained, as the rest had left begging the serfs for what was promised, and the numbers kept on falling. The night was the worst time of all as Alexandro felt loneliness despite the hundreds of boys surrounding him because of the lack of kinship that they shared, what was worse was that their imaginations were running wild with wild whispers of beasts in the dark and other false rumours and hearsay. But he would not give up; Alexandro had already sworn to either succeed or not to come back at all, he wouldn't be able to face his family if he failed.

The night seemed to go on forever, hundreds more and already faltered, and Alexandro's resolve diminished with every passing instant, whispers of doubt slowly made its way into his head like the tendrils of frost working its way to his heart.

The night suddenly grew colder and the mist he was exhaling grew thicker, Alexandro noticed that the night sky had gone starless and there was that overwhelming feeling of despair. He then noticed that everyone else had disappeared, leaving him more alone than ever, leaving him and his shadow.

His silhouette began to move.

'_You can't go on' _the shadows whispered in a mocking tone _'foolish boy; do you really think that you have a hope of becoming one of the Emperor's finest?'_

'Yes I can' whispered Alexandro through gritted teeth, his jaw was chattering so hard that he feared it might shatter, 'On my honour I swore it to my family and to myself'

The shadows for a moment shivered with a parody of laughter before twisting into nightmarish creatures of the mind.

'_You do not have a chance you insignificant worm' _it chided through its demonic visage, like his schoolteacher did back at school, a place he was longing to get back to right now, _'Ah, you know it yourself, you want to go back to that life you have lived for the past fourteen years, you are nothing but a little boy destined to waste his life as a petty Administratum cleric serving under the rule of your uncaring Emperor.'_

Alexandro knew that this wasn't just a conversation of his conscience, the shadows were the manifestation of the promise of the destruction of all mankind hoped to create in the vast domains of the Imperium. It was a creature as old as mankind, born from his inspirations, his dreams and his ambition, the anathema of humanity, beyond the shadows Alexandro heard the laughs of thirsting Gods.

'I am not cowed by the likes of you foul taint,' he retorted angrily, 'Begone to whence you came for your vileness is dirtying my soul.'

'_You call me a vile taint?'_ teased the shadows, lengthening as it spoke, '_Such ignorance. I am everywhere, within every person you talk to, and even within you…I am man's essence, the reason why the mankind is doomed to fail. A hypocrite you are, for you are unaware of your own taint, something that we share…'_

'Lies' Alexandro yelled back 'Foul trickery made up by a creature of deceit, we do not share anything in common daemon, the very thought of it disgusts me'

'_Ah truly knowledge is power but ignorance safety for one the likes of you' _the shadows laughed chillingly, '_How do you suppose that we are even having this banter? You know just as well as I do that you have this "taint" within you too, you must surely know by now what you are' _A pause before the wind whistled breathing, _'…psyker…psyker…' _The accusation was then joined by everything, echoing from all around him, even from the starless sky above. Alexandro's faith momentarily wavered, his core foundations shaken; the daemon couldn't possibly be telling the truth…could it?

'_Ah the boy begins to understand…' _the shadows breathed '_A creature the likes of me would only tell the truth when it cannot be believed'; _the visage smiled icily through its ethereal fangs and opened its maw to swallow Alexandro.

As he tumbled into its bowels, Alexandro noticed a lone star reappearing in the night sky, and he knew with all his heart that it was Terra, the beacon of the Astronomican – the Emperor's light – gently washed over him, giving him purpose and strength.

'Psyker I may be daemon, but I am still a noble servant of the Emperor and I shall not fall to your blasphemous trickery, begone!' he cried, unleashing his fury in a halo of light.

The shadows flinched and cried out in what seemed to be pain as it was struck by the fury of the virtuous and disappeared in a flash.

*

Alexandro woke up to find everything back in place, but something was different about him after than encounter with his inner daemon. He had this new hyperawareness of the world around him, he could see the ghost of Chiron Beta flickering over the dreary landscape, and he could feel the pain of the planet and the sorrow of the wars in the stars above. All this was almost too much to comprehend and he would've laid down in exhaustion if it wasn't for the rules of the Trial that he had etched into his mind, the fight with the daemon took up almost all his strength and it was only with the last of it did he keep himself up.

'What has become of me?' Alexandro whispered quietly to himself, looking up to the heavens for Terra beseechingly longed for the music of the Astronomican once more. But it was futile as that momentary sense of purpose had gone; the bubble had been burst, swept away by the wind of reality.

The night that had the eternal quality to it suddenly shifted as Alexandro gazed in wonder at the stars, almost reaching out to it with his newfound awareness and playing a melody with the starlight, he watched the night turn light blue as blessed dawn replaced the darkness, Alexandro realised that the conversation with the daemon had sped up his notion of time and for that, strangely, he was thankful for it.

An hour later by his reckoning, Captain Raphael and his Honour Guard marched and surveyed the sparsely occupied amphitheatre, the Captain with his helmet already magnetically clamped to his belt counted twenty remaining would-be aspirants; twenty out of two thousand that started out sixteen hours ago, this was more like it.

'Boys' he announced, 'You are one step closer to becoming a Space Marine now that you've past this test, but can anyone tell me why this was called for? Why, instead of having you fight each other, this method was used?'

He paused for answers, and when he received none, he sighed before replying.

'The reason for this is because technically we could make one in every five men of Chiron Beta our gene seed but it takes determination and willpower to make a man an Astartes, because an Astartes is not defined by the gene seed he has received or the armour he wears, he is defined by the ideals of which we hold dear, for without them we are lost. The Emperor Himself decreed that we would hold off the enemies from within and without the Imperium and it cannot be achieved by normal men weak of wills, for we are the bulwarks of humanity.'

'You boys are now closer than you think to becoming an Astartes but let me remind you now that this night was the just the beginning of the process in becoming an Astartes for the Trials have not ended, you will now be taken to the Pabilsag Monastery where you will join up with aspirants from the other planets in the system, I am expecting about a hundred or so recruits to be stationed in the training barracks.' The captain smiled, 'Remember that the coming ordeals will only be hard if you do not have faith in the Emperor and most importantly in yourself, look upon me to see the fruit that you seeds can bear, and know that a long time ago, I was where you were and you can be where I am if you try you endure.'

Alexandro felt his chilled heart beat with renewed hope as the strength flared within his soul, he looked around and the dishevelled collection of boys around him. The speech, though reaching to all the boys, felt like it was for him alone and Alexandro knew without a doubt that the feeling was mirrored within the eyes of every boy in the amphitheatre.

With some hidden command, they all knelt to the venerable captain in supplication, the gesture conveying their oath of loyalty more than words ever could. Alexandro swore on his immortal soul that he would stay true to the ideals of the Imperium and make a beneficial change for mankind.

The captain accepted the show of respect with a curt nod before beckoning them to follow him; the boys stood and followed the captain into the murky abyss of the corridor that swallowed them up, the destination unknown.


	4. Chapter 2: The Flight

**Chapter 2**

"_The foe thinks that they can steal this world…let them try"_

Chapter Master Mikhail Jain of the Sagittarians Chapter

*

The journey down the pitch-black corridor was short.

Their destination was a makeshift landing pad on the outskirts of the vicinity where a massive craft, painted in the livery of the Sagittarians, lay in wait. As the assembled boys stared at the huge craft in awe, a marine with multiple servo arms attached to his back came over to them.

'The Machine Spirit is willing' he said saluting, 'Captain Raphael, the Thunderhawk is ready for the journey back to Pabilsag.'

'At ease Techmarine' the captain replied smiling, at once easing the tension, 'Markus you old dog, a surprise to see that you haven't been entombed within a Dreadnought yet.'

'And you too Raphael, I see that you are brimming with youthful energy' replied the Techmarine sardonically, 'I only have a few more years under my belt than you.'

'Ah, but those few years make all the difference' smirked the Captain, turning to the boys, 'you lot, into the Thunderhawk, Brother Ezekiel' nodding to one marine loading crates into the ship, 'will make sure that you are all strapped in nicely, we wouldn't want you to break something on the way to the fortress now would we?'

The boys obeyed without question, despite the fatigue they felt and the hunger that gnawed at their bones.

*

The journey to Pabilsag took only a few hours, surprisingly fast for a journey that took them to the other side of the planet to the more mountainous region of Chiron Beta, where the rocky land still lay unmolested by mankind, its vast regional wealth yet to be mined. Alexandro spent most the time napping, recovering from the exertions of the previous day, whilst in the few minutes he was awake, he took note of his surroundings, the vast hangar bay that dominated the interior of the Thunderhawk was large enough to house the Honour Guard, the supplies and the score of boys with lots of room to spare.

Alexandro took particular notice at the boys who had passed the first test along with him, they were undoubtedly stronger willed than most of the population, their ages ranged from his preadolescents to those about his age, he noticed that even from their upright foetal position that he was the tallest out of the lot, which was unsurprising as he was unnaturally tall for his age, six foot at fourteen made him tower over his peers at school.

Alexandro then turned to look out of one of many view ports outside the Thunderhawk and gasped.

He was on the edge of the world, higher than he had ever been in his life, he could see where the darkness of space met with the sky blue of the atmosphere, and the starlight here put the night sky down on the planet to shame, the heavens was filled with numerous pinpricks that shone in varied magnitude. The world below was just as intoxicating, the sky gleamed iridescently as the sunlight reflected off of the atmosphere, and the entire world looked like a big blue marble.

'Just beautiful isn't it?' someone whispered in his ear.

Alexandro yelped in alarm and turned to the speaker, Captain Raphael was standing right in front of him where just seconds ago he could've sworn that he was strapped on to the seat on the other side of the hangar. His stealth belied his massive Astartes frame.

'Nothing to be worried Alexandro, just commenting on the view'

'How do you know my name sir?' Alexandro stuttered, truly the marine was more imposing up close than he was afar, he could see the numerous scars in his armour and the tarnished golden Imperial aquila that embossed the centre of the captain's breastplate.

'By accessing your records of course, I know the names of everyone under my command in the 2nd company; do you not think that I would be able to remember yours?' asked the captain with a frown.

'Oh, no lord, I meant no offence' replied Alexandro hastily.

'And none taken cadet' he paused, 'do you know that I've had my eye on you during the night?'

'What? You were watching us? And why me lord?'

'Of course, we were watching from the shadows, watching the Trials with our own eyes, and I took interest in you because I saw the determination in your eyes, like you were fighting for something, your back never bent and you never faltered all night, just like a proud marine of the Emperor's finest would' he smiled.

Alexandro's heart swelled in his chest from the praise from one ranked so high up in the Space Marine Chapter. 'I am honoured lord' he choked, 'but there were times when even I didn't know if I could go on especially when…' he cut off.

'As you become more ingrained within our society you will learn that a Space Marine knows no fear' the captain replied, 'not like we don't feel it but we don't allow it to take root and cloud our judgement.'

The enormity of the statement awed Alexandro. 'But isn't fear part of what makes us human?' he asked.

The captain sighed, and for a moment Alexandro feared that he had taken it the wrong way. 'Cadet, you have just broached upon a subject that is as old as Space Marines themselves, whether or not we are human, basically with the implants that we receive, we are past human, more than human or merely superhuman. Our genetic code is so different from humanity's that we wouldn't be able to reproduce with females even if we wanted to, my opinion of it is that we sacrifice most of our humanity when we accept the calling of the Emperor and, don't get me wrong, I do not regret my decision as a boy to become a Space Marine. And that is all you will need to know for now Cadet, if you want the question answered in more detail I suggest you search out the Chaplains, the spiritual leaders of the Space Marines, and get into a debate with him over it.' said the captain.

'My lord? When will we be reaching the fortress monastery?'

'We are almost there according to the auspex of the Thunderhawk and we will reach there shortly, we are already over the mountains of planet, the fortress monastery itself is built on the tallest mountain on the planet.'

'And lord?' he asked, 'I couldn't help but listen to your conversation with Techmarine Markus, but what is a Dreadnought?'

'Ah young one, you have more questions than a Librarian, and before you ask what Librarians are, they are the marines who involve themselves in the sanctioned psychic arts for the benefit of the chapter, they are also responsible for data keeping the Chapter activities. Dreadnoughts on the other hand are machines of war where the bravest of our brethren, who have been grievously injured in battle beyond the skill of our finest Apothecaries, are given the honour of serving the Emperor beyond death by hooking them into a life-giving sarcophagus which is then installed into a massive bipedal machine. These marines, given their skill and longevity, are the spiritual house of our chapter, only being roused to war in the direst of times and telling the stories from bygones past. Some of them have even walked upon the same battlefields as the Immortal Emperor in the Great Crusade ten millennia ago.

Ten millennia was a long time to be alive, Alexandro thought, the idea of being entombed in a cold sarcophagus for that long was something that only the strongest of wills could withstand.

'_Sire, we have almost reached our destination, prepare for descent' _Came the voice of Techmarine Markus through speakers that were spread throughout the hanger.

'Understood' replied Raphael through the vox bead on his collar plate, he looked at Alexandro and said, 'Well met young cadet, I am sure that you and I will converse once we reach the monastery' before walking back to the other side of the Thunderhawk and strapping himself into his seat. Alexandro spent the last few minutes on the Thunderhawk thinking of one word: Librarian.

*

A few minutes later Alexandro found himself on one of the numerous landing pads of Pabilsag fortress monastery. The boys, slightly refreshed from their snooze but just as famished, filed up outside the Thunderhawk and gaped at the view.

The fortress was not built on a mountain, it was the entire mountain! The landing platforms were just in the middle levels of the mountain and even here the air was cold and dry enough to mist their breaths, the snowy capped peaks that were above him seemed to puncture the sky and Alexandro could catch a glimpse of massive battlebarges that docked around the top of the monastery, all around him there were massive defence batteries that packed enough punch to rip open anything but the strongest of void shields, surely this was one of the most defensible places in the Imperium.

Alexandro turned his eyes from the heavens back down to the Thunderhawk from which the Astartes silently padded down the ramp to the awaiting boys who stood still in trepidation.

'Cadets' said Captain Raphael through the snout in his helmet, 'before you are released to your quarters and allowed to have your meal, I would like to introduce you to your leader: Sergeant Octavius' pointing at the second to last marine to exited the craft, 'He will be responsible for turning you cadets into men worthy of becoming an Angel of Death.'

The sergeant took a couple of steps forward and inspected each cadet individually through his helmet. The sight of having a three meter tall giant looming over someone was intimidating at best and terrifying at worst, to imagine one of the Astartes roused for war would truly be a terrible sight for the enemy let alone a Chapter of one thousand Sagittarians. The sergeant's eyes only rested upon each cadet for a moment, as if reading their eyes in an instant before turning to the captain and proclaiming, 'Sire I believe that these cadets are worthy of my tuition until events prove otherwise'

'Very well then sergeant' replied the captain, turning to the boys, 'You are dismissed, follow the serf who will show you your quarters and who you'll be bunking with.'

The extricated cadets followed the cloaked serf into the bowels of the mountain, things, Alexandro thought, were about to get interesting.


	5. Chapter 3: A View To A Death

**Chapter 3**

The enemies of the Emperor fear many things.

They fear discovery, defeat, despair and death.

Yet there is one thing they fear above all others.

They fear the wrath of the Space Marines!

-Litanies of Ardour

*

Alexandro woke up from his dream in cold sweat. The night in the amphitheatre had returned to haunt him every night in the week since he had been inducted into the might fortress Pabilsag, the setting was the same but the events were always different, the unearthly power that had given him resolve that night never came, leaving him wondering whether or not it happened at all.

The first week since he had been inducted into the keep, more specifically the training grounds, had gone swiftly. The cadets, being isolated from one another in individual cells, did not have the chance to converse with one another and Alexandro longed to speak with them on what they saw on the first night. Meals had generally been swift and in silence as if none wanted to relate to one another, Alexandro noticed the cadets from the other planets of the system, six if he wasn't mistaken, and was surprised at the differences between them despite wearing the white surplices of the Chapter signifying their rank as Aspirants, and roughly one hundred of them as the captain had promised. Some of the cadets had a burnt complexion with callous hands suggesting work in the Agri Worlds of Chiron Gamma and Epsilon while others had the remnants of a patriarchal look to them that must have been shaken during the trial suggesting that they came from Chiron Alpha.

Back in his sparsely decorated cell where the Chapter symbol of the Sagittarians, a centaur holding a strung bow, gave a splash of colour in an otherwise grey world, Alexandro was fuming, _'This silence will have to change soon_,' he thought in the middle one of his many mental rants, '_if we are to succeed in the trial, this is pathetic, what are we waiting for, why aren't we starting our trials already?' _He paused, and started taking a few deep breaths that strained his chest in an effort to calm himself, _'This must just be another test, seeing how patient we can get, and I must endure.'_

_*_

This isolation lasted for what seemed to be another two days, it was hard to tell as there was no clock and it was impossible to tell whether it was night or day in the fortress, until on the ninth day after their arrival, their hall instead of having the breakfast tables set up by the serfs, housed one inhabitant, more specifically Sergeant Octavius. The wary boys neatly filed up in twelve lines of ten in front of the massive figure, backs ramrod straight, already aware via observing the serfs on how to properly act in the presence of their masters. The Astartes, a first, had come unarmoured, clothed in a simple white surplice over his charcoal-black bodyglove that only seemed to accentuate his physical perfection better than any armour could. What was just as terrifying was his size without his power armour, Alexandro always expected that their fearsome bulk was mainly due to their armour but the seven and a half foot tall giant that towered over the aspirants forced him to revaluate his opinion of the Astartes.

The giant moved forward frowning, evidently unpleased with the show, walking through the ranks and adjusting the positions of some of the boys as well as the spaces between the lines, he passed Alexandro by and that brought a mental sigh of relief from the nervous cadet. Only after returning to his spot after moving through the ranks did he finally speak and his voice was tinged with disappointment.

'Not bad, but it could be better' the Astartes said, his deep rumble reverberating across the massive hall, 'As you all must remember, I am Sergeant Octavius of the Second Company, proud to serve under Captain Raphael, you will refer to me as either Sergeant or sir, do I make myself clear?'

'Yes sir', came the unanimous reply from the crowd.

'It has been nine days since you have arrived at Pabilsag and within them you have done nothing but nothing, who knows why you were kept in isolation?'

Alexandro, determined to end his silence voiced his opinion.

'Sergeant' he said, 'this was just another trial wasn't it? Another ordeal to test our strength of' he paused and looked around before whispering, 'our brotherhood.'

'What is your name cadet?' the sergeant said, walking towards him.

'Alexandro sir' he quickly replied, fearing for a moment that he had done something wrong.

Reaching him the sergeant put a massive plate-sized hand on Alexandro's shoulder and said, 'Very perceptive cadet, and right you are, this is a test that you have all failed miserably, you were, as Alexandro rightly assumes, _supposed_ to interact with one another culture to culture despite the barriers that we put up.'

The sergeant then lifted his hand before pacing around the assembled boys, Alexandro quickly massaged his shoulder, by the Emperor that hand was heavy!

'The strongest bonds that we have' the sergeant said, 'as Space Marines of the Imperium are the bonds of brotherhood, much of this you will learn later in history classes, but this you should learn now, look to the people beside you and know that if you make it as Astartes they will be willing to die for you and they expect you to make that ultimate sacrifice for them when the time comes.'

Alexandro looked to his right and met the back of someone's head, looking left however he saw his arctic blue eyes reflect off a pair of hazel brown set between a broad mouth and a mop of black hair, he memorised the features and made a mental note to talk to the boy later.

'The term battle-brother has not been coined for amusement, it is a moniker that has repeatedly proven its worth for the past ten thousand years in the anvils of war, Space Marines are nothing without each other, no matter how strong we are individually for we cannot fight the enemies of humanity divided', he paused before continuing, 'you are now all brothers to one another despite your past for now it doesn't matter anymore as you are on the path of becoming an Astartes.'

'Now back to proper matters, you will now use the strict timetable that we Astartes follow to the letter, you will begin today', the sergeant paused before saying two of Alexandro's least favourite words in the Gothic language.

'Buddy up.'

'You will be given five minutes to divide yourselves into twenty four teams of five instead of four, seeing as there are a lot more of you this year than there were last year, those who don't get into a group will be on bread and water for a week, now go!'

The next five minutes was pretty hectic as most of the aspirants could not keep up the formal facade under this much pressure and yet by the end, no one had been left out and Alexandro found himself with four other boys that included the black haired boy, who introduced himself has Patroclus from Chiron Alpha, along with the other three coming from Chiron Gamma who introduced themselves as Sam, Cletus and Rhode respectively.

'Okay cadets' Octavius called at the end of the five minutes, 'you will now be named randomly after the alphabet from Team Alpha to Team Omega, remember that this does not show my preference to any one of you so if I catch any of you in Alpha strutting around like you own the place I will have you thrashed, is that understood?'

'Yes sir' came the reply.

The process of naming was fast as the sergeant just pointed at a group and called the name, the members of the first group couldn't help but grin when they were picked which was quickly stifled when the sergeant frowned, and Alexandro's group was named Team Upsilon.

'Alright cadets' the sergeant said, handing out a sheaf of paper to each group, 'this is your timetable that you will be following'.

The boys in Upsilon took a glance and it and groaned.

'Are you kidding me?' groaned Sam, a child yet to reach adolescence, 'we only get five hours of shuteye a day.'

'Aw man' muttered Cletus, 'three hours of prayer a day, prayer! I've been to church every week and even half an hour of it is hell'

Patroclus and Alexandro looked at each other and sighed, as if the very paper sapped their strength already.

'Look at this' Patroclus said, 'it seems that we begin right away in the firing round.'

'Ah, yes, I've always looked forward to firing a gun' replied Alexandro.

'Well I bet you wouldn't say that with the same relish if you've been through a hundred battlefields' said Octavius from behind them.

The boys turned in alarm; Alexandro was once again surprised by the speed and stealth of an Astartes.

The sergeant then turned to the rest of the boys and said 'Time to go cadets, follow me, it would benefit you to remember the passages that we pass in case you get lost, and believe me it's a labyrinth down there.' before turning back to the entrance of the hall and leading out, a moment before the rest of the boys filed out.

*

Team Upsilon crashed through the underbrush of bushes and emerged into a desert biome, Patroclus holding the compass moved aside his water bottle hanging from his neck to take a look at the local map for the umpteenth time and pointed at a direction where the boys ran towards without question. It had been three weeks since they began training, three weeks of hell, some teams had lost some of their members through the hardship whilst others, such as Team Gamma, had lost all the members and the team was made redundant. They were now down to a quarter of the original hundred and twenty, and Team Upsilon was one of the few groups that were still at full strength, where the dropouts had gone was a mystery but Alexandro suspected that they were either transformed into mindless servitors or demoted to the hooded serfs forever bound to serving the Chapter. In that time however, the survivors had grown into the mould of the Astartes routine, they grew stronger, faster and deadlier than ever before. Now, practicing at the firing range with live munitions was normal, and so was hours of sparring with an assortment of semi-deadly weapon. Alexandro had looked at himself in the mirror a few times and was shocked by the transformation the Astartes' regime had on his body; the loss of baby fat coupled with muscle growth changed what was once a sinewy boy into a big and toned adolescent. Alexandro was in the middle of an unexpected growth spurt that made him tower a head above all the other aspirants, what worried him though was how his meeting with the shadows had possibly awoken dormant abilities such as the small precognitions that allowed him to win all of his duels and that extra burst of inner energy that allowed him to lap everyone else in races, in short he felt that he was undeserving of being the star pupil of the remaining cadets.

It was their third day since the Chapters' Rhino had dropped them off in the desert and they were feeling the strain, the looming silhouettes of massive manufactoriums of the Adeptus Mechanicus in the horizon behind them. Equipped with a map, compass, some rations and a destination, the teams, all starting from the same cramped Rhino had rushed forth eager to come first. The journey to Chiron Delta was sluggish on one of the Chapters' frigates _The Last Shadow_, all strike cruisers and battlebarges were occupied fighting in wars parsecs away, taking six long days. Sergeant Octavius had briefed the boys before deployment in what seemed like a lifetime ago, the speech drilled into his head despite the long days in the featureless red landscape that was supposed to remind the Techpriests of the Mechanicus of Holy Mars back in the Solar System.

'Okay cadets' Octavius had said from next to the command deck's hololith projector showing the landscape of the foreign planet, 'you will be undergoing a race on Chiron Delta from this plateau where we will drop you to the extraction point in this valley about a five days march away' gesturing two points on the map that registered at close to one hundred kilometres apart, 'you will each be given vox-beads for emergency communication only, we aren't planning on killing any of you off in this race but teams who fail will be taken from the Trials, and I mean teams in their entirety. This race is for teambuilding and will test your fledgling brotherhood if you bothered spending the time bonding over the past few weeks, so I will not accept a lone team-mate ahead of his team unless the rest have died which I seriously doubt, am I understood?'

'Yes sir' chorused the aspirants.

'And a note this planet, though Imperial, is teeming with hostiles so you'll each be given your bolt pistol in case of an emergency, though I doubt you'll be experiencing some serious action it does well to play safe. For those of you who like ignoring safety rules, listen carefully, the race is taking place just ten degrees of the planetary equator which will mean that you will expect high temperatures, roughly fifty degrees out in the open which is enough to give you burns in a matter of minutes so keep your sunhats on. Water loss is immense, you can dehydrate in a matter of hours out there, and since we gave you limited water rations, do not waste it, for those who run out early I suggest you look at your map and refill your rations in the surrounding villages if they are willing. Now get ready for launch in two hours, your Thunderhawk awaits.'

The Thunderhawk that they had boarded was different to the one that they had used to get on the ship for it abandoned its spacious interior for a device that was presently holding on to one of the Chapters' APC Rhinos. The boys boarded the vessel, already laden with their rations, eager for the race to begin, eager to prove the Astartes that they were worthy to join their ranks. This euphoria lasted long after they dropped off the Thunderhawk and entered the Rhino to avoid discretion, long into the journey to the starting point; it lasted till the Rhino disappeared into the distance after dropping them off. Upsilon had the benefit of having Patroclus as their navigator as he had experienced a lot of outdoor activities, surprising from someone coming from nobility, and had a sixth sense for direction, with good direction and with Cletus keeping their moral up with chants that he learnt from history class, Team Upsilon made good progress across the desolate terrain.

'Alexandro' said a voice that pierced through the brief flashback, bringing him back to the plains of Chiron Delta that went as far as the eye could see, he turned to the speaker, Patroclus who was busy setting up a makeshift camp.

'What is it brother?'

'Hah, isn't it a bit premature to be calling me brother?'

'We are all brothers out here Patroclus; we need that kinship for without it we are lost' Alexandro said grimly, 'why did you call me?'

'You had this dazed look in your eyes; I've been calling you many times to check up on our rations as we'll need to eat soon.'

'Oh, the rations'

Alexandro took the rations out of his backpack, he had volunteered to carry all their rations earlier as they were growing smaller and were burdening the other members of the team.

'We still have enough food for another two days'

'If you can control your appetite that is' sniggered Sam, much to the amusement of the other boys.

'Ha ha very funny you guys' Alexandro said sarcastically, 'But there is a problem with our water consumption, which is all Rhode's fault of course' he said with a grin.

Rhode reddened as the rest of the boys roared with laughter, they all knew of his almost obsessive habit of cleaning his hands multiple times a day, yet the laughing was infectious and soon Rhodes joined in for the laughter wasn't meant to be insulting, for it was just the act of brothers playing a joke.

'On a more serious note' Alexandro said 'I think we'll be needing to refill our water tomorrow when we start off again just to be on the safe side because' he said tracing a long ravine on the map that was lain out across the floor, 'that ravine will be the final dash before the extraction point here and there's a small foundry: Septimus Omega, three miles to the west of the gorge' motioning with his index finger.

'I think you're right _brother_' Patroclus said with a smile, 'this could be a good opportunity to meet and strengthen relations with our Mechanicus allies.'

'As what' Sam snorted, 'esteemed ambassadors of the Chapter? They probably won't give two groxs about who we are.'

'We are ambassadors of our Chapter' said Cletus solemnly 'as Gulliman had said…'

His sentence was left unfinished as the other boys, not wanting another memorised statement from the Apocrypha of Skaros, leapt on him with whoops of laughter that echoed into the night sky.

*

From the command deck of _The Last Shadow_, Sergeant Octavius stood next to one of the massive view ports that gave the crew a panoramic view of their surroundings, brooding upon the ignorant world below; he turned from the view to a screen that showed multiple red dots with symbols, each one signifying a team still in action. The sergeant's face was blank but his mind was in turmoil, his concern for the boys was almost overwhelming, none of the dots had gone out since the beginning of the race and that soothed him a little. He was known to his brothers as being very empathic for a Space Marine, but that didn't change the fact that he was a merciless killing machine in the field of battle, no one doubted his prowess in the battlefields. He massaged his forehead with his massive fingers running over the smooth bumps of his two service studs, each signifying a century of service for the Emperor, and noticed that there was a day in difference from the team closest to the extraction point and the team in second place. The team in first was Team Upsilon he noted with pride, though he hated to admit it, Upsilon had performed the best out of all the teams and had very promising candidates, Cadet 15 or Alexandro in particular. His superb record made Octavius slightly suspicious for the boy had excelled in everything that he had done, a perfect Astartes candidate, yet it seemed too good to not come under scrutiny and he made a mental note to contact the Librarians when one came back to the system to conduct a few tests.

'My lord' whispered a voice from behind him, 'I apologize for the disturbance but I bear grim tidings from the planet below.'

The sergeant turned around and registered the hooded serf who stood a metre smaller than him in power armour.

'What is it Michael?' he replied, his voice grim.

The serf beamed at the recognition before spluttering.

'The Magos of the eastern sector has sent us a plea for help to quell an uprising in feral orks that inhabit the area, it seems that they have all united against the forces of the planet and are wreaking havoc to the settlements.'

'But that's where the race is taking place' the sergeant said in shock, turning to the screen to see if all the teams were still operational which it still was.

'Sir, the current location of this feral Waagh is unknown and it could be entirely possible that they aren't even close to the aspirants' the serf said in a placating tone.

'Yes, that could be a possibility' Octavius replied, his voice grim, 'But I'm not about to take any chances, we need more information as to the whereabouts of this Waagh, press them for more answers, the future of our Chapter is at stake.'

'Yes lord' said the serf, bowing before shuffling away.

The sergeant now alone on the pulpit turned back to the view port silently wishing for the aspirants' safe return.

*

Alexandro woke up to the sounds thunder in the distance, which was unusual for the predawn sky was clear, Alexandro sat up and looked towards the distance where he saw bright lights and flashes, what more he could also smell the blood in the air, something was wrong. He woke up the others in Team Upsilon, shaking them vigorously.

'What's wrong Alexandro?' asked Sam, rubbing his eyes before checking his watch 'It's 0500 you know?'

'Look over there' Alexandro pointed to the source of the disturbance, 'can't you see it or hear it?'

'What?' Sam squinted at the distance for a moment before turning back to Alexandro, 'I don't see what you're trying to show me brother.'

The other boys looked at the horizon before looking at one another quizzically.

'Are you alright brother?' asked Patroclus hesitantly.

'I'm fine, I'm not going mad, there's something going on over there, I think it's a battle,' Alexandro replied fervently 'lets go.'

The others still frowning obeyed his orders without another word and in five minutes they were packed and ready to go, they trudged towards the disturbance for two hours before the rest of Team Upsilon saw and heard what Alexandro had kilometres back.

'I can feel the ground trembling' said Cletus, his face grim.

'Me too' replied Rhode, he turned towards Alexandro with a worried expression on his face, 'Brother, how did you know about this back at camp?'

'That doesn't matter right now' said Alexandro feeling the weight of four pairs of wary eyes on him, 'just focus on what that disturbance is, everyone get your binoculars out on infrared mode.'

The others swiftly took out their binoculars and peered into the lens, Alexandro a moment later, he put the eyepiece against his eyes and gasped at what he saw, the flicker that he saw from the distance turned out to be the foundry that they had plotted on their map, and it was under siege by bestial creatures manning crude machinery. Putting the binoculars down, he met the shocked expressions of everyone else in the team.

'What are they?' Alexandro whispered.

'I couldn't tell from here' replied Patroclus, his expression morbid, 'but I think that they're greenskins'

'What? How?' said Sam.

'If you paid attention in history class you would know'

'Patroclus is right' said Cletus, 'these must be feral orks.'

Feral orks, Alexandro remembered, a horrible reminder to the people of worlds like Chiron Delta who had experienced massive Waaghs in its past, they were borne from the spores of the original orks whilst in their death throes, these spores bore bitter fruit in the form of an entire orkish ecosystem tucked away in the recesses of the world after a few decades. The people who successfully thrown off the invasion would find, decades later, these feral orks charging out of the unexplored forests or caves of the world and causing more strife, it seemed that the local feral ork population had united and were besieging the foundry for the purpose of accessing the weapons and armour being made there.

'They are here to steal this foundry to fuel their campaign' Alexandro said in burning anger; fear washed away at the sight of such desecration of Imperial beauty, mirrored in the faces of everyone in Team Upsilon, 'well, let them try, move out brothers.'

Two more hours of walking, they were hiding in the brush around the southern entrance of the compound where there seemed no sign of the invading orks.

'What do we do now?' whispered Patroclus, 'If we move out of cover we'll get shot by the defenders.'

Alexandro brooded upon the question for a moment.

'I do not think that they will shoot us' he replied, 'we do not share the same stature of one of the greenskins or their gretchin slaves, besides the Chapter symbol is clearly emblazoned on our surplices, they will more likely accept us with open arms.'

Then, deciding to take the initiative, Alexandro strode out into the open, followed by the rest of his team a moment later.

'Halt who goes there?' a voice grated from the top of the battlements, belonging to a hooded techpriest, 'Do not move, you have a dozen guns aimed at your heads. Are you vile orks?'

'No we are not one of them and neither do we hold any allegiance to them, we are aspirants of the Sagittarians Chapter and we request you let us in to aid you in your struggle.'

'Sagittarians? Here? I thought that they were strewn amongst the stars in wars light years away from here.'

'We are only aspirants, but we will aid you in your plight as best we can, we can't bear to see an Imperial city fall.'

There was a short pause, where the techpriest turned and deliberated with more hidden figures, this time armed, Alexandro reckoned that they were the skitarii, the fighting force of the Adeptus Mechanicus, before turning back.

'You can enter the city, but be quick; the Machine Spirit will only keep the gate open briefly.'

The gate began to groan in protest as massive hydraulic pistons forced it open, as the team began to move forward, something came around the corner of the walls to their right; a band of about twenty orks sharing a few crude buggies, the materials foraged from the wreckages of Imperial villages.

The biggest of them, obviously the leader as he was sharing his buggy with no one, saw the gap made by the gate and, swinging his massive axe, roared and throttled his bike forward which was then followed by the rest.

Seeing that they wouldn't make it to the gap in time, his leadership instincts took over.

'Priest, get your men to aim and fire' he roared above the din of engines shrieking in protest. The answer was immediate as a dozen lasguns lit up like angry flashlights, threading the gap between the two forces with narrow beams of light, the devastating burns it caused on flesh decapitating an ork and crippling two buggies in the first volley. At the same time, Alexandro drew out his pistol from its holster and motioned the other boys to do the same.

'Brothers, we shall not let these vile xenos enter this bastion of the Imperial truth; we shall strike them down with the judgment of the righteous' he yelled, waiting for the orks to get within range of bolter fire, 'for the Emperor, brothers!'

'For the Emperor' Upsilon yelled in reply before letting loose a volley of bolts, the blessed shells punching into the ork lines and downing one greenskin, one less for them to deal with later. The orks bearing crude guns were in the meantime firing wildly at the assembled cadets, the shots missing by metres at best and the squad could hear a staccato of thumps as the slugs hit the ground around them. Alexandro knew that without close combat weapons or the innate brute strength within every ork, keeping their distance from the orks was crucial for surviving the next few seconds, relying on the abysmal aiming of the orks as the distance between them closed and the suppressive fire from the skitarii above.

Alexandro set his aim upon the lead buggy where the leader sat roaring in guttural tones, and as he did so, time slowed down to a crawl and Alexandro felt his heart beat as loud as a drum as he looked down the sights that was aimed at the wheels of the crude vehicle and fired, the cockpit of the buggy too armoured to pierce. He watched the bolt shell sluggishly leave the barrel in a pirouette of death towards its target and watched it impact the vulcanised treads and disappear in a flash of light that brought him back to real time. The explosion made the buggy flip into the air, its fuel tanks exploding make it careen through the air only to land mere inches away from Alexandro, the ork who was inside the wreckage ripped apart the chassis that had served as a roll cage and turned to stare at Alexandro, it was so close that he could see the red eyes in its bestial face that burned with savage joy. As the ork raised his axe for the kill, a gaping hole erupted from his chest, looking skyward at the ramparts Alexandro saw that the skitarii got a heavy bolter emplacement ready that was now wreaking havoc amongst the ork ranks. Looking back down at the ork, he was frozen in time, his face twitching as if it didn't seen to realise that it was dead, it then toppled backwards and the hellish light that emanated from its eyes dimmed down to a smoulder. A few seconds later, all that was left of the ork warband was a bunch of corpses littered amongst wrecked vehicles, there were no Imperial casualties much to the relief of Alexandro. The gate only now fully opening, allowed the members of Team Upsilon to enter the complex of the foundry.

*

An hour later Team Upsilon found themselves in the conference room of Septimus Omega, along with a collection of hooded techpriests and a man who called himself the Magos of the planet, surrounding a massive hololith table accessing the situation.

Magos Arten was a being who could be called a human with a great deal of charity, for he was more machine than man, his writhing components extending from a face mostly covered by a breather and two bionic multifaceted eyes that gave him a bug-like appearance. He was talking to the other priests in a code of binary: machine code, which annoyed Alexandro who knew that they all knew Imperial Gothic.

He coughed.

The Magos looked up from his discussion, his expression unreadable and Alexandro could see his hundreds of his faces reflected off the techpriests eyes.

'Oh, my apologies aspirants' he said unapologetically, his tone programmed to be cultured and sophisticated, 'I was just discussing with my subordinates here how we deal with the situation.'

'Then perhaps we could be of some use' said Alexandro, 'We may not be marines but we've been taught their ways and I have personally learnt the tactics to deal with this ork scum.'

'Aspirants, do you not think that I can defend my own keep?' the Magos asked, his head tilted.

'We've been out there doing some recon as we came around, at least I was' looking back and grinning at the rest of the team, 'the walls outside the northern part of the complex are very weakened from the constant battery of their looted siege weapons, how long has this siege been going for?'

'About two weeks, the orks struck just as I came for…a routine inspection' the hesitation was obvious and immediately drew Alexandro's suspicion, but he wouldn't ask about it now, he was no interrogator.

'We'll need to find a suitable vox system to alert our sergeant to the situation.'

'There is a vox system capable of reaching your sergeant on the basement area of the complex; you can go there after this meeting is done. The conversation you heard in machine code earlier was because our latest intel had just shown the source of this problem, the leader of this Waagh as well as the reinforcements he is bringing.'

'What is the situation Magos?'

'Our intel has reported that an ork warboss has risen, and he is not a feral ork, we believe him to be the long dead Gazaghel Gutwrencher, he was listed at missing when the Sagittarians destroyed his space hulk home a year ago, it seems that his unholy powers have refused to die.'

'What unholy powers?' said Alexandro, his voice stern.

'He was an extremely potent pysker, wielding a relic of Tzeentch, the Sword of Change, an artefact that magnifies his power tenfold, and since we have no pysker here strong enough to combat him, we'll need the help of one of your Librarians, but our transmissions have until recently been cut off. The reports also state that he is leading a Waagh of about four thousand orks, that's more than double of the figures that were recorded assaulting the main manufactoriums in this hemisphere.'

'But why are they assaulting here rather than the main manufactoriums? This place cannot be more valuable, it should only be making Guardsman issue equipment and a few chainswords, what are you hiding Magos?' Alexandro almost shouted meeting the venerable techpriest in the eyes, the inscrutable eyes of the other priests suddenly darkened.'

The Magos flinched slightly from the fury that he saw within the chilly depths of the aspirants eyes.

'Your defiance to my authority is noted.' He said calmly.

'And so is your capability of hiding the truth.'

'Well, I don't really need to hide it from you as you are part of the Chapter, a century ago your Chapter Master, Mikhail Jain, commissioned a battalion of super battle tanks that he told us to make in secrecy, far from the main manufactoriums to avoid suspicion. We have obeyed his wishes, spending the past century designing and making these massive machines, their armour and weaponry are second to the Titan legions themselves if not their equal.' He said with a hint of pride.

'And the orks want this? How did such knowledge get to them?'

'That we can only speculate, but the importance of this foundry is unquestionable, for if the orks get a hold of these tanks this world is lost, for they were designed to withstand anything the Guard could throw at it.'

Alexandro sighed, the numbers were overwhelming.

'Four thousand orks against…how many skitarii and war machines do we have within these walls?'

'There are about a thousand skitarii including my Praetorian squad, a few heavy weapons emplacements and a few squadrons of battle-servitors.' He hesitated, 'Those were the figures at the start of the siege, and we really need the support of the Astartes.'

'Which is why I need to contact Sergeant Octavius to send his squad down and perhaps also send down a bombardment salvo to clear the orks.'

Alexandro's sixth sense flashed a second before a battlecannon shell impacted the spire outside the room, the earthshaking blast entering through the window and unleashing hell into the room.


	6. Chapter 4: A War Within, A War Without

**Chapter 4**

"Show me a fortress and I'll show you a ruin"

- Chaplain Leo of the Sagittarians Chapter

*

Alexandro's world vanished in an eruption of earth and flames and for an instant he was gripped in the jaws of a dragon, fierce heat washed over him and flames licked around his skin before a wave of concussion blasted into him, showering him in shrapnel. His vision cleared minutes later, by his reckoning, to find himself still standing within a scene of utter devastation. Team Upsilon were mostly unscathed but the techpriests closest to the window were not so lucky, now just broken metal amongst red ruin, the magos was down and bleeding profusely from one of his legs. Instinct took over and he dropped down to the floor next to the magos and attempted to staunch the flow.

'We have to go down to the lower levels to signal the ship above,' Alexandro said, raising his head slightly to window level and noticed that the orks had raised a massive cannon that was presently raining massive shells onto the already battered fortifications of the Mechanicus, 'there isn't much time we have to move.'

'Leave me' Arten said, motioning him away with his, 'I can walk, this isn't the worst pain I've felt by far.'

The Magos lifted himself up, took a few faltered steps before falling, Alexandro's arms were there to grasp him before he hit the floor, calling Patroclus to help with the burden, once grasping him in a stable manner, the two boys hauled him upright and dragged him down to the lower chambers of the foundry.

*

'Sergeant, do you copy?' Alexandro yelled into the vox, 'Sergeant, this is Code Red, Alpha-Omicron-Lambda-Beta' giving the code for emergency.

'Yes cadet I hear you, you'd better have a good reason for calling me here, you're not the only team calling for help and I'm trying to track an Ork Waagh that has been reported in your area.'

'That's why I'm calling sir, there a massive Waagh numbering about four thousand strong right outside our doors.'

'What?' The sergeant asked incredulously, 'There's an army outside Manufactorium Septimus Alpha numbering half of that, why would they target a small foundry on the outskirts of the plains?'

'This foundry has more strategic value; if they were to conquer this zone then the warband will crush any resistance on this planet with ease.'

'Report its strategic significance then cadet.' commanded the Sergeant.

'It appears that our Chapter Master commissioned the build of a battalion of super battle tanks in this foundry about a century or so ago and that, though unfinished, the tanks could wreak havoc on this world.' Alexandro said whilst looking at the sketches of the tanks, 'They have Imperator class void shields making them nigh impossible to destroy once operational.'

'Imperator class…' the sergeant repeated in shock, and he had a right to for shields of that magnitude were only found in the biggest of battleships and protecting the biggest fortifications, 'why wasn't the rest of the Chapter informed of this?'

'I think that it was for a campaign that our Lord must be planning, for supporting the next crusade that Warmaster Macaroth will be undertaking soon, he has good insight.'

'Why yes he does, I'll get my squad ready with the necessary equipment, get ready for my arrival.'

'Well you'd better be quick sir; it doesn't look like the walls will be holding on for much longer.'

'It'll take longer if you delay me with this transmission, there is no time to waste, Octavius out.'

*

Octavius switched off his vox bead as tried to make sense of the facts that the cadet had given him, of the truth he had no doubt, but the motives of the Chapter Master were eluding. Pushing the thoughts from his head he thumbed the vox bead again, this time to the private channel to address the rest of the members in his squad.

'Squad Lomaron' he said into the speaker knowing that the other Astartes on the vessel had paused in their current activities, undoubtedly cleaning their wargear, to listen to their commanding officer's words, 'a massive force of orks has been spotted by our aspirants and they need our help, brothers, it is time for war, assemble at the Thunderhawk hangar in thirty minutes.'

The force that gathered in the hangar at the half hour mark was an awe-inspiring sight, eight Astartes roused for war, three of them hefting bulky heavy bolters that would usually be found on fixed turrets or vehicles, the rest holding their blessed bolters across the aquila at their chest. Octavius looked to his devastator squad with pride, they had served under him for a century and he knew that they would do the Emperor's works on this day.

'Brothers, today we once again fight in the Emperor's name, our reach will be without limit and our touch without mercy, we bring the Emperor's justice to the darkest corners of the battlefield, we are his blazing wrath.' pausing to clamp his helmet on his head, his voice now issued from the snout on his helm, 'For the Emperor brothers.'

'For the Emperor' Squad Lomaron replied solemnly before boarding the Thunderhawk.

*

Alexandro found himself on one of the ramparts looking towards the besieging force soon after he placed the Magos to the care of his apothecaries, help was on its way he told himself; the day was not lost yet. He and the rest of Team Upsilon had headed towards the armoury of the foundry, showing the seals that were given to them from the wounded Magos, they were granted access to the best equipment there was in their arsenal, donning smooth fitting carapace armour, wielding sniper rifles, shouldering chainswords at their back and their bolt pistols in their holsters, Upsilon was ready for the coming fight. They had begun by sniping what they thought were prime targets though in the gloom of twilight it was hard to tell, Alexandro just aimed at the biggest orks whilst looking for the warboss in the tide of green. He could sense him, he knew that he was out there somewhere but hidden in plain sight. The walls on the northern sides of the complex were weakening and thankfully none of the orks below were issued with jump packs for if they had, the foundry would have fallen days before.

The colossal cannon in the distance shook the ground as it let loose another of its massive rocks, as it had done once every minute, towards the defences and it had a lucky hit, the gun was crude and so inaccurate that most of the shells fell short or went too far, the boulder impacted the walls with a splitting _crack _that shook the earth. The defences that held up the bombardment for a fortnight finally broke in the face of the massive rock, crumbling down to make a ramp for the assailants to enter, a cry was echoed in throats of thousands of orks as they charged into the breach.

Alexandro slung the sniper onto his back and exchanged it for the chain weapon on his back, thumbing the trigger on the handle, the sword buzzed into throaty life as he leapt from the battlement into the fray. He landed on the back of an ork and wasted no time between landing and killing, his chainsword ripped into the flesh of the greenskin, showering Alexandro with viscera and gore, the unfortunate ork didn't even have the time to scream as the tip pierced his heart killing him outright. Tugging the reluctant blade out of the corpse he swung round, the moves he learnt in hours of sparring coming back to him in a heartbeat, and eviscerating a row of orks in a vicious arc.

Alexandro lost track of time and the number of orks that he had killed, all he remembered was cutting vengeful swathes amongst the ranks of the enemy, he came back to his senses when a massive axe struck his left forearm, cutting through the armour and embedding itself deep into his flesh, howling in anger he slew the ork and looked to his surroundings.

He was in the middle of a sea of carnage, with dead greenskins piled up around him, he was elated till he turned back to the defenders, most of the Imperial forces were either injured or dead, but the ork forces on the other hand were hardly diminished. As the second wave of orks howled their guttural chant into the night sky, Alexandro couldn't help feeling despair, three weeks wasn't a long time to be serving the Emperor, but he would die fighting like an Astartes; sacrifice was after second nature to the Space Marines. As he readied for the last stand, a roar of engines streaked overhead, Alexandro lifted his head to see twisting contrails of exhaust rippling in the air above him, it was a Thunderhawk; reinforcements had arrived. The ramp opened and eight Astartes jumped from the hangar of the gunship, their backpacks slowing their descent with a flare of exhaust. The bloodshed began in earnest as soon as they hit the ground a hundred metres behind Alexandro, with the might of three heavy bolters at their fingertips, they rained death upon the enemies of the Imperium, their moniker; Angels of Death was aptly named. He had seen the looming threat that each Astartes posed but never had he seen them roused for war, like demigods of war they strode down the battlefield in a quick and measured pace, killing hundreds of orks in an arc that extended almost a kilometre. Just as Alexandro let his guard down, a massive blast of energy hit him from the plains beyond the walls, the wave of psychic force knocking him of his feet and sending him hurdling down the ramp like a leaf in the wind. He landed heavily, moments before a massive ork and his hulking retinue charged up the ramp and into the breach, his breath was knocked out of him and he lay sprawled amid the chaos, he looked up to a gnarled face that he instantly recognised as the source of the massive blast: Gazaghel Gutwrencher.

The warboss was easily the most massive greenskin that Alexandro had encountered in his short time amongst the orks, about four metres in height, he clenched a two-handed sword in his right hand and hefted a massive gun in his left that was currently aimed at Alexandro's head glowing white with superheated gases, once again he felt the unnatural intelligence that burned from the depths of the hate-filled eyes, and his hatred for the beast gave him strength. A sudden spring of energy washed through him as time slowed down, Alexandro lifted his bolt pistol and shot at the greenskin whilst rolling away from the incoming plasma blast that came from the ork's massive gun, he flipped upright and swung his chainsword for the kill. His blow was met by a wall of psychic energy that brought him down to his knees, the ork's psych that was radiating from the sword burned at Alexandro's soul like the heat from a forge, and in that moment he took in everything, the lips pulling back on teeth as the warboss triumphed, the gargantuan bodyguards surrounding him for the kill, the scent of blood that overwhelmed his other senses, something clicked within Alexandro's head and his hatred exploded in a halo of light.

Like a dormant volcano awakening, the massive blast he generated annihilated everything on and including the ramp, disappearing in a searing ball of light, the impetus of the blast knocking orks and Imperials alike like leaves in a gale, but as the defenders braced for the inevitable, the wave softened and washed over them whilst redoubling its efforts on the orks. The molested earth split open as the immense barrage of energy slammed into the main ork force, shattering limbs and rending flesh from bone, the massive cannon that plagued the defenders offered no resistance as it toppled over into the bowels of the planet along with the bodies of thousands of orks, and as suddenly as it came, the ball of light fell upon itself back to the boy in the middle of it all. The last thing Alexandro saw before he lost conscious was a massive figure slowly striding towards him with purpose. In the blackness he screamed as the battle for his soul began.

*

Octavius felt something he hadn't in a very long time as he raised his plasma pistol to the young aspirant's head, a very human emotion that he thought he had left behind whilst undergoing the transformation of the Astartes, and that emotion was fear. The display of power was terrifying and he looked to ground zero of the explosion, there lying where no one should have survived, was cadet Alexandro of Team Upsilon, skin glistening as if it could barely keep the power in check. Conflicting emotions were going through Octavius's head, though he was no psyker he felt the immense power that fuelled the storm, something that endangered the greater Imperium as potent psykers were always welcome to demonic possession, and yet he also felt the immense willpower that kept it under control, preventing it from destroying the foundry complex. He turned to see that even the mighty endurance of the Astartes were nothing to the blast, his squad lay sprawled on the floor unconscious, tossed by the wind and landing heavily next to the other aspirants of team Upsilon. He escaped the same fate as he wore a rosarius, which was given to him by his dying Chaplain mentor a decade before, that absorbed most of the blast, and even then he was shaken by the explosion of pure psychic might. He then noticed that the boy might not have survived the blast unscathed himself, the boy's eyes were rolling inside his eyelids and he was shivering from some inner cold. The boy was being possessed by the daemon in the sword, the sergeant sighed heavily before putting the muzzle of the gun against the aspirant's head, he began to mutter the Litany of Exorcism to safely guide the aspirant's soul to the Emperor; the chant grew in power and volume as he progressed through the verses.

*

Alexandro was in hell. He was asphyxiating, drowning at the bottom of a lake of blood, he strived for escape but the lake wouldn't release him so easily, it tormented him with a brief moment of hope in the form of giving him a second for breath before plunging him once more into the crimson depths. The waters were Chaos, with whirlpools that led to unfathomable deeps and waterspouts erupting all over choppy surface reaching towards the stormy clouds above. Though loud, there was once noise that carried over them all in the wind; the sound of laughter, someone was enjoying this particular spectacle.

'Show yourself foul daemon' roared Alexandro underwater in a flurry of bubbles, he given up trying to surface as the daemonic biome didn't affect him so when he put such trivial hopes from his mind. The laughter continued for a few moments before responding.

'_I am here, I am everywhere for this realm that you've trespassed on is my domain; the weak-minded are always easy prey' _echoed a voice, cultured and reformed in the language of High Gothic, Alexandro was struck with the similarities that this daemon shared with the inner shadows that he had fought weeks before, _'you don't seem so surprised to one the likes of me..'_

'Relinquish your hold on me daemon, you are not the first of your kind that I've fought, get out of my head!'

'_Ah but it is already too late, for your possession is almost complete, freedom from the innards of that crude weapon is sweet, and even if I do not wreak havoc with this new form, in death I'll be released back to the embrace of the Warp.'_

'In that you are wrong daemon, if you think that you can weaken me with these pathetic parley tricks then you are gravely mistaken, I do not fear the touch of the Warp.'

'_Ah'_ whispered the voice resigned, its sibilant tone sickening Alexandro, '_then let me redouble my efforts and show you the full extent of what you are fighting for no mortal can withstand the might of a Lord of Change.'_

The pain that came afterwards was excruciating, and Alexandro screamed as the knowledge that the daemon was pouring into his head was overwhelming, the absolute vision of Chaos was so devastating, he caught the glimpse of a howling cadaver attached to a massive life-giving golden device, the light of the Astronomican extinguishing, the immortality of Chaos and the sheer corruption from within the Imperium, Alexandro cried with this newfound knowledge, of the darkness in mankind's heart and the inevitable stagnation of the Imperium. The Lord of Change laughed triumphantly in his ear, as cold and cruel as the Old Night itself.

'_You see boy?'_ it whispered, '_your pathetic Imperium is wasting away, a once great ideal forged by warriors now managed by the fearful and the weak who have never known the kiss of war.'_

The vision shifted to another massive conscious that was building in the centre of the Imperium, centred on Holy Terra, a simple glance at the primordial soup that threatened to tear the Imperium asunder enough to drive a lesser man insane. But Alexandro was not those men, he retaliated with a massive blast of psych that made the daemon falter for a moment, and in that moment he once again felt the choir of the Astronomican, the silvery notes that flowed the warp giving him purpose and direction. He felt the texture of something hard on his temple and he grasped onto it, something real; something that wasn't part of this madness.

'Whatever the truth may be' Alexandro whispered into the tumult, 'I will fight it to my last breath, for I now know the true side of Chaos.'

Summoning all this strength he unleashed a blast of energy that exorcised the daemon from his thoughts and his flesh, the sea calmed and a ray of light came to the surface, he then swam towards the glow, and surfaced to find sergeant Octavius pressing his plasma pistol against Alexandro's head whilst muttering a Litany under his breath.

'Um, what are you doing sir?' he whispered.

The sergeant recoiled slightly from the outburst from someone he expected to wake up and begin slaying Imperial innocents.

'Rest in peace cadet' he continued, 'and may the Emperor protect your soul from the storm.'

'No offence sir, but my soul right where it is supposed to be.' Alexandro replied.

Octavius paused and looked down at the boy, something had changed; the aspirant's eyes glittered with an arctic intelligence that made Octavius shiver.

'You know that we'll be putting you through some tests once we get proper Librarians back in Pabilsag?'

'I understand sir.'

The sergeant nodded curtly.

'The display of power of that magnitude is very rare, even amongst psykers.'

Taking out a small device he screened Alexandro, which shortly gave out a red light.

'What?' the sergeant muttered incredulously tapping the device again, 'This isn't possible; you're listed as a null with no psychic activity whatsoever.'

When the boy didn't reply, he looked down to see him contemplating something; his eyes were suddenly old for a mere fourteen year old boy, more fitting in a person who had seen a thousand years of conflict.

'What is it cadet, what did the daemon do to you?'

'A lot of things, his visions changed my entire perspective of the galaxy…and the Imperium as a whole…' he paused for a moment, 'it is a dangerous place out there' he whispered looking up at the stars, his eyes now saw all the previously invisible eddies and the currents of the warp intertwined with real space.

The sergeant, not knowing how to respond merely nodded and followed the cadet's gaze to the stars above.

*

Alexandro was back within the foundry, the hospital wing this time where he sat watching team Upsilon recover from their wounds, the Astartes had already woken up before even entering the room, their superb physiognomy healing their wounds in an instant, the aspirants however weren't as blessed so for now they lay in their beds being tended to by the techpriest physicians.

He turned to a window looking towards the devastation that he had wrought, the northern walls was now replaced by a massive fissure in the earth of depths they could not fathom. Alexandro shivered at the thought of what he could have done if that power had free rein, but the siege was lifted and that's what mattered, nobody suspected Alexandro as the source of the massive blast and the sergeant –the only witness to the events– wasn't spreading anything which relieved him.

The reports were in, the entire race was a death trap to the teams who were lost in the desert, they didn't stand a chance against the roaming orks –the only aspirants who survived were those in team Upsilon, parts of team Omega, Lambda and Alpha who managed to get to the foundry, a total of ten out of the thirty five that began the race. The sergeant didn't take the news well and he spent the time pacing around the wing brooding on his failure. Alexandro's train of thought was interrupted by metallic hand that beckoned to him, it was Magos Arten, Alexandro got off his chair and walked to the Magos's bedside, the damage done to his outer shell was superficial but Alexandro could feel the ruptured vessels within. Whilst the repairs his physicians and done to his body fixed most of the damage done by the concussion to his bionics, his remaining vital human parts would need to recover on their own.

'From what I hear you have done this planet a great service,' the Magos whispered, his voice as cultured as ever, 'and for that I owe you a great debt young aspirant. You have my promise that if you are induced to the Chapter as a fully fledged battle-brother, I will personally make you a suit of armour the likes of which as never been seen before.'

'I am honoured Magos Arten, but I do not think that I deserve something of that magnitude, anyone would have done what I did if they were in my position, but if you insist then I will gratefully accept your bequest.'

'And insist I do,' the Magos said, 'once again thank you noble Alexandro of the Sagittarians, now leave me for I will need to undergo the lengthy process of healing my wounds.'

Taking one last look at the Magos, Alexandro turned away and strode back to the beds where the rest of Upsilon lay.


	7. Chapter 5: The Box Has Been Opened

**Chapter 5**

"Courage is stronger than Adamantium.

One is forged in the anvils of war,

The other is a feeble illusion of safety created by delusive fools."

-Chaplain Anthony of the Sagittarians Chapter

*

Alexandro stood to attention encased within the artifice segmented carapace armour, given to him as a gift from the Magos once he had recovered enough to take to the forge a week after the Imperials had defeated the orks, perfectly at home among its hundreds of interlocking dark-blue plates with the Chapter symbol proudly emblazoned in silver on his left pauldron. The rest of Team Upsilon stood to either side of him in the armour they took from the armoury of Manufactorium Septimus Omega –similar, though none as intricate or as efficient as his. The other remaining aspirants stood behind them, a total of two rows of five standing to attention to sergeant Octavius who paced the deck in front of them, silent despite wearing two tonnes of power armour.

'The reason why I called you here is for two reasons, firstly because I've just been informed of a problem,' the sergeant said suddenly stopping, 'we will be returning to Pabilsag immediately, and in a couple of weeks time we will be reassigned to the Second Company in their endeavour to end another ork incursion in one of the systems we swore to protect.'

'But sir?' asked Alexandro. 'Isn't our training incomplete? We aren't ready for a full-scale campaign yet.

'That brings me to my second point, I've discussed this with Captain Raphael for the past few days, and we've decided to promote you all to neophytes of the Chapter, your training as scouts to begin immediately if your compatibility with the geneseed is up to standards.'

The news struck Alexandro like a physical blow, to be inducted into the Chapter so quickly was a great honour.

'You're kidding right sir?' said someone from the line behind Alexandro.

The sergeant sighed in resignation. 'No I am not kidding _Neophyte_ Manuel, though I could rescind that honour for you if you wish.'

Alexandro heard a gulp before, 'No sergeant, that's fine by me.'

'The strike cruiser _Resolute_ will enter the system in approximately two weeks if their jump is stable, to pick us up and rendezvous with the Battlebarge _Invictus_ in the Pandor system to rid it of the infestation. Till then you will receive your first implants, on the road to becoming Space Marines, hopefully we will get the Secondary Heart and the Ossmodula in before departing, depending on the recovery rate of you neophytes.'

He paused for breath and grinned.

'You should see your faces.'

The neophytes' expressions bordered between shock, awe and fear.

'Back to the point, the luckier of you will recover fast enough to get the Biscopea and the Haemastamen and perhaps even the Larraman's Organ, though the last will be for those who display a ninety-five percent or more in geneseed compatibility, a very rare case. So Alexandro, that shiny armour won't fit you when you're eight feet tall'

Alexandro mirrored the sergeant's grin. Though he was slightly disappointed of having to let go of his armour so soon, it was overshadowed by his elation at becoming an Astartes, it was every boy's fantasy to become one of the Angels of Death and yet he was standing here in that place that millions could only dream for.

'Departure to Chiron Beta is imminent,' Octavius continued turning away, 'we jump into the warp in ten minutes.'

*

'Ouch, watch where you're sticking that thing!' cried Alexandro

'It was bound to hurt, young _master_.' came the cool, sardonic reply that emanated from behind a fresh surgical mask as his blood slowly filled a large conical vial. After swirling it around a few times, Techpriest-Genetor Mishalca watched the crimson liquid settle to the bottom of the vial through a pair of purple eyes –augmented no doubt Alexandro thought, before placing it in a centrifuge that began whirring at the press of a button.

The techpriest then turned to a slightly dazed Alexandro.

'Disorientation is normal' she said matter-of-factly in a voice that challenged Alexandro's stereotypical view of techpriests, 'oh and before you ask, that much blood was needed for the many tests that it'll undergo.'

'Ah, okay then.' Alexandro replied, 'What are we waiting for?'

'We're waiting for the centrifuge to finish…spinning before checking your geneseed compatibility, ah there we go,' she said as the machine stopping humming.

Alexandro spent the next few minutes watching his now coagulated double-layered blood pass a series of devices that each gave a result in numbers that evidently made sense and pleased the techpriest.

When the last result came in, Mishalca entered the numbers into a central computer, after a few seconds of processing his result came out in the form of a graph.

'Wow,' she said, genuinely surprised for once, 'it seems that you're a perfect candidate, a hundred percent match, that's a first, strange.'

'How is that strange?' Alexandro asked cautiously, this wasn't the first that surprises had happened to him in recent weeks.

'Because, technically it's impossible for you to be a hundred percent compatible with the geneseed since we all have a different genome to one another, but it seems that against all odds it seems that you were made for this geneseed.'

'And, about the geneseed, isn't it supposed to be perfect? Being made by the Emperor and all…' he said trailing off.

'As much as we'd like to think that, it isn't, mutations have run rampant amongst the Space Marines since their creation; it almost defines the afflicted Space Marines themselves, though most Chapters like to cover it up. The only chapters with perfect geneseed are the Dark Angels chapter and your parent chapter the Ultramarines, their successor chapters have usually kept the trend, but mutation in most is inevitable since in the space of ten thousand years a lot can happen.'

'What about in the Sagittarians then? Are we afflicted with mutations?'

'The Sagittarians have a few mutations, the biggest being in the Biscopea and the Ossmodula.'

'What? What mutations?'

'Thankfully these mutations are somewhat beneficial, the two organs have mutated vastly, the bone for one is much stronger,' she said showing him an x-ray image showing two different arms, pointing at one she said, 'This one is from a regular Astartes, bulky and dense, but look at the bones belonging to a Sagittarian. Notice the increased size and via analysis of bones that we have done, its overall structure is different on a molecular level, the strength is immense and coupled with a new mineral diet that we've recently introduced to neophytes, the bone is almost if not completely unbreakable. This also makes you Astartes taller than most by about a foot.'

'And as for the Biscopea, it gives you more muscle and strength since it is denser and larger. This makes you about twice as strong as normal Astartes; you'll be able to lift about five tonnes once I'm done with you, and that's without having power armour.'

Alexandro smiled unwillingly, the lengthy process didn't seem so bad after all.

*

In the two weeks they spent waiting for the _Resolute _to arrive, Alexandro underwent massive physical changes. Though nothing happened for the first two days of recovery after receiving his first two implants, the Secondary Heart and the Multi-Lung, 'giving it time to settle in' as Mishalca would put it. Then on the third, when he was able to train again in the massive sports track in the bowels of Pabilsag, he noticed the increased stamina that he had, he practically sprinted six kilometres before having to stop.

'That's a good sign, the implants are setting in nicely,' said Mishalca on their daily checkups, her face still hidden by a mask, 'it will only get better as time goes by, I think that you'll be ready for the next few implants by tomorrow, we're going off the usual order, I think that having the Biscopea and Ossmodula here before going off on a mission will be dangerous, its safer to implant you with those when on the Battlebarge.'

So they went straight to the Haemastamen, Larraman's Organ and the Occulobe in one go. After a couple of days of dizziness and blurred vision where his brain was trying to accept the messages that the new eyes were trying to send, Alexandro woke up one day to a world of previously unseen colours. Along with a colour that he could only describe as deeper than violet, everything was giving off light, he realised that this was infrared, he was seeing the heat signatures emitted from objects. His vision was also vastly improved, it was as if a veil that had previously covered his eyes had been removed, and he could see perfectly in almost pitch blackness and his vision in daylight was also much enhanced.

All this was put to the test when he went to see Mishalca with a series of experiments that quickly confirmed the implants taking place. One, to test the Larraman's Organ, was to slice Alexandro's arm and see the effects of how fast the blood would clot, and it was fast, Alexandro could literally see his wound close up before his eyes. The scab that formed in mere seconds fell off a few more later leaving a pink puckered scar that soon faded; all this in less than a minute. The techpriest was pleased.

Two days before the due arrival of the _Resolute_, he was implanted with the Preomnor and the Oolitic Kidney, the organs that would defend him from most poisons that the enemy would have in their arsenal. He was still under heavy doses of sedatives by the next day when the strike cruiser entered the system a day early and so had to be put on the Thunderhawk in his bed with the techpriest tending to him. It brought mirth to the other neophytes who he knew had not received as many implants as he did, all he could do was wave his arms feebly in an attempt to shut them up which only brought more hilarity.

As soon as they were on the massive cruiser, Alexandro was placed in the medicae section of the vessel along with the other neophytes, still ten strong, whose humour had not lessened in the hours since they met.

'Look at him,' sniggered Sam who was now as tall as him, 'he's supposed to be fighting in two weeks time.'

'He hasn't even received the implants that we got, what have you been doing these past two weeks? Getting it on with your nurse?' said Rhode with barely contained mirth. The others roared with laughter at this comment.

'Oh leave him alone would you,' intervened Patroclus 'he needs to recover if he is to be ready; we'll leave you to your rest brother.' The neophytes then filed out of the room and left Alexandro alone to shake off the effects of the sedatives amid the warning klaxons signalling the jump back into the warp.

*

The next five days in the warp were fast. The other neophytes were growing fast, all presently at about seven feet and climbing, towering over Alexandro though not by much as even without the Ossmodula he stood at close to six and a half feet. But they made up for it in mass and sheer bulk, their personal physicians who had accompanied them on the vessel putting them through stringent tests everyday. Sam, the smallest of the neophytes, showed off one day by lifting two tonnes of weights when Alexandro decided to train in the gym a day after his recovery. This was countered by ten laps around the kilometre long track where Sam was sorely beaten, the extra heart, lung and efficient blood giving Alexandro the edge.

Mishalca wasn't the only medic concerned with Alexandro's health. Brother-Apothecary Ascelpius, a veteran of five centuries of service in the name of the Emperor and miraculous healer, of the First Company took over the implantation checkups with the former as his aide once he heard of Alexandro's freak compatibility result. Checkups had lost their friendly demeanour and were now cold and calculating with little conversation between the two, the tests being painful and testing his implants to the limits. On the last day in the warp, Alexandro was put through a few checkups to get his measurements recorded.

'A very fit candidate for an Astartes,' Ascelpius said by the end of the examination, evidently pleased, reading of a list he read out Alexandro's biological profile, 'six foot six –tall for a non-Astartes, ninety-eight point six kilograms –sturdy, bone density of two thousand kilograms per metre cubed –suggests extremely strong bone structure, five and a half percent body fat –points to good athleticism.' Ascelpius showed a rare smile. 'A prime candidate, it's very rare to get lucky with neophytes, I'm guessing that you'll turn out to be a good investment for the Chapter.'

'Brother Ascelpius, I have a question that's been bugging me for a while as I've recently been looking at my friends.'

'Fire away neophyte.'

'How tall will I be as an Astartes once I get the Biscopea and the Ossmodula?'

'Ah, that's a difficult question, usually for a Sagittarian the Ossmodula makes us grow just over a third of our total height, that means you'll be about…close to nine feet in height once you receive the Ossmodula, you'll be one of the if not the biggest Astartes in the Chapter.'

This statement took Alexandro by surprise, being bigger than the biggest men that he knew…that was scary.

He gave the news to the other neophytes once he got out of the medicae.

'Wow, nine foot?' whistled Patroclus.

'Well, we'd better enjoy this height advantage while we can brothers.' said Sam in his now gruff voice, far deeper than it was a week before.

'Good news everyone,' interrupted Manuel, 'apparently we're going to be tested on what position to get in the Chapter once we get to Pandor.'

This made everyone start talking.

'Oh I'm going to be Chaplain for sure.' said Cletus before quietly chanting a parable made by his hero Chaplain Leo.

'I'm hoping to be a Techmarine.' said Rhode expectantly.

'I'm just sticking to a brother marine,' said Sam, smiling, 'I don't have a natural affinity for such stuff as you geeks, what about you Brother Patroclus and Alexandro?'

'I like the idea of being an Apothecary,' Patroclus began hesitantly, 'but I wouldn't mind just sticking to a plain battle-brother.'

That left Alexandro.

'He's going to go up far in the Chapter I bet, judging by his enormous pool of good luck.' interjected Manuel before he could respond.

'Yes I can see him as a sergeant within a decade, who wants to make a bet?' replied Sam.

This was met by a flurry of words, a debate on how long it would take for him to attain the rank of Chapter Master and what they'd use as trinkets for the bet.

'There will be no betting today,' said a voice that carried over the gales of merriment, shutting it up instantly, they all turned in surprise to see Sergeant Octavius armoured and ready for war, 'we enter the system in less than a hour and I expect you to be in your armour for we could be going into battle in an instant.' he said before striding past them to the command deck.

*

The neophytes were standing in full battle attire on the command deck an hour later watching the chaotic warp flowing past the invisible Gellar Field that served as a shield from the horrors beyond. Klaxons wailed throughout the ship as the warp drive sliced an opening back into reality in front of the cruiser moments before superstructure slid through the breach.

They emerged into a wondrous sight; a massive battlebarge hung is the space ten thousand kilometres away, the dark blue exterior giving it the appearance of looming predator, escorted by a score of Guard transport ships that stayed close to the Astartes ship like a school of fish would do to a massive whale.

'That's the _Invictus _lads or the Unconquered, and aptly named for we have not lost a crusade with it on our side,' said Sergeant Octavius smiling at the neophytes' faces, 'a pride and joy of the chapter, ten kilometres of the Emperor's will, only smaller than _The Dreadful Sagittary_, flagship of the Chapter Master and the esteemed First Company.'

'Sir, there's an incoming transmission from _Invictus_.' said a serf from the front.

'Send it through.'

'Yes sir.'

They turned to the hololith where the booming voice of Captain Raphael came through.

'Sergeant, get squad Lomaron and your new neophytes here immediately, these orks have reinforcements and I don't think that they're the only enemy we're going up against.'

The journey to _Invictus _was short, about half an hour, Alexandro spent the time watching the massive vessel get bigger and bigger until it filled the entire view port, they then filed down to a shuttle awaiting in the hangar of the cruiser that transported them the last few kilometres to the bowels of the ship, they navigated a series of corridors and stairs that eventually led to the command deck of the ship. Captain Raphael and his command squad were armoured and ready for war discussing something with diminutive Imperial generals who were subconsciously making bigger hand gestures then they usually would, as if they were trying to show the Captain that they weren't intimidated by his size. The Captain then noticed the retinue coming through the massive blast doors to the massive room; he turned away from the generals much to their annoyance and beckoned them to join him.

'Ah Sergeant, I see that you and the latest batch of recruits have arrived to aid us.' Raphael said with a laugh, clapping Octavius in the back.

'It was my pleasure sir, though we've had some serious setbacks cutting the Trials short, I'm certain that these neophytes are worthy to become one of us.' Octavius said smiling

'Yes, I heard about the incident on Septimus Omega and about the hero of the hour,' he said turning to Alexandro, 'young Alexandro, it's a pleasure to meet you again.'

'And it's a pleasure to meet you too sir.' Alexandro replied beaming at the praise.

They formally shook hands, Alexandro was acutely aware that the Captain was trying not to crush his hand in that firm shake.

'I've also heard about that little problem you had in your confrontation with the warboss. Though I'm glad it's finally dead, I thought that I personally vanquished him in his space hulk fort, but I'm worried about what it could have unleashed,' the Captain said grimly looking at him intently, much to the confusion of the other neophytes, 'Sergeant Octavius briefed it to me on his report and I assure you that you will be screened for the magnitude of your strength by Librarian Larsus, though Octavius assures me that the problem is mostly under control.'

Patroclus turned and gave Alexandro a tell-me-everything-later look, Alexandro just shrugged before resentfully nodding.

'Sir,' Sergeant Octavius said, 'what about this ork incursion that plagues this world.'

'Well, I'll allow Commander Eckhart,' gesturing to a middle-aged man with cropped white hair, his face scarred with recent wounds, 'to brief you on the situation, for he was the one who contacted us in the first place.'

'Thank you esteemed captain,' the Commander said before facing the assembled neophytes, 'a few months ago, our fleet was destroyed, an urgent transmission from a lone trooper told us that a massive force of orks had invaded the system, and massive it was. Though I knew to call in the help of the Astartes then seeing how fast they overran an entire fleet, the Planetary Governor decided to wait until the orks destroyed four PDF regiments before sending the plea. Our intelligence reported that this horde numbers in the hundreds of thousands if not millions of orks; there also had also been reports of gargants –ork titans, something that you would see on Armageddon. Our prayers were answered when Captain Raphael exited the warp two months ago with an entire company of Sagittarians, nine regiments of storm troopers from Chiron Beta along with the fleet itself. The past two months were spent using the Astartes as shock troopers, and they've slowed the progress of the invasion immensely, but they haven't stopped it.'

'About a third of the world's landmass,' he said waving to a hololith projection of the world that displayed a third of the world in a red zone, 'has been overrun by orks and only a third more are being kept by the Imperial forces.' the man grimaced, 'The last third belong to the nobility of this world and it seems that some of them have taken this opportunity to secede away from the Imperium of Mankind,' he spat angrily, 'and since we can't divert any of our forces in that area, that is where you neophytes come in, but…' pausing to look at the massive neophytes that all averaged eight feet in height before sighing and massaging his forehead, 'I was expecting more human sized operatives like Alexandro there, this puts the plan into jeopardy, looks like the rest of you will be joining the other Astartes as scouts whilst Alexandro here does all the real important work.'

'What would you have me do sir?' Alexandro asked.

'I was just getting to that, you will act as an ambassador of the Imperium to persuade the nobles to come back to the light as I undoubted know some are trying to do now. They're in a middle of a civil conflict presently regarding old issues, you'll have to guard Lord Pandor –yes his family's namesake comes from the planet, who is the highest ranking noble and technically the most powerful person on Pandor. Luckily he's one who believes in the Imperial cause and he's just a few days away from assisting us with his massive family armies.'

'But what I've come to believe is that orks are not the only enemy we face,' interjected Captain Raphael, 'according to Larsus there's been an unusually high amount of warp activity on the planet, suggesting that some of the nobility on the planet have turned to the archenemy Chaos.'

There was a swift intake of breath and Alexandro felt the sudden tense undercurrent in the room. These people had decided to consort with the dangerous and malignant forces of Chaos to their own ends turning their backs on the Emperor, such heretics did not deserve to live and it was the holy duty of the Astartes to root out the taint. Alexandro knew from his recent illumination what rewards this path would culminate to, more damnation and horrors.

'I think,' the Captain continued, 'that they're trying to summon something from the warp, something big, and if something _big_ gets through, this campaign will get a whole lot uglier. This is why the commander's plan of Alexandro as a guard will also incorporate infiltration and assassination, the ringleader of this plot will have to be taken out. And yet before anything happens to the young neophyte here, he'll have to be screened by Larsus.'

'As you wish Captain.' Commander Eckhart said bowing.

'This meeting is over for now, everyone can now get ready for war except for you Alexandro, you'll have to follow me; Librarian Larsus awaits you.

*

'So this is the neophyte that I'm going to probe?' said an Astartes encased in highly ornate power armour incorporating a crystalline hood in a soothing voice, 'he doesn't look like much to me.'

'Alexandro, meet Librarian-Epistolary Larsus, second in power to the Chief Librarian himself.'

'Just because he's older…' Larsus muttered. The Captain laughed.

'He'll be responsible for probing you and measuring your level in The Assignment scale, I'll leave you two alone for now.' Captain Raphael said before turning back and exiting the room.

'Well then young neophyte, apparently you've exhibited a large psychic blast previously, which is strange as I can't sense anything in you, for now while I this machine ready tell me all the abilities that you think that you have.'

'Uh, I'm just much more perceptive that I was before.'

The Astartes handled the bulky piece of equipment with the skill of a master pianist.

'Okay, when did these powers begin to manifest themselves?'

'That blast was the first time I ever displayed something, I think that assault awoke something.'

'Strange how I can't hear your thoughts, my powers mainly lie with the mind, or your emotions, I'm beginning to think of you as a null –Omega level, those are people with inert warp signatures so that other psychics can't detect them, a close proximity to one causing pain to a psyker as you are now doing to me.'

'But level Omega don't display any psych.'

'True,' the Librarian replied hefting the equipment, 'what I fear though is what the possession did to you and if you actually rid the presence of the daemon, put this on.'

He placed an intricate helmet on Alexandro's head and pressed a few buttons, the device began humming.

'This device tests the electromagnetic fields that are around you, the psych exuding from you manifesting in the form of disturbance in the fields, this will not hurt though you'll feel a bizarre sensation.'

'By the way Brother-Librarian, what level are you on The Assignment?'

'Oh, though I don't like to boast,' the Librarian smiled, 'it takes a lot of psych to get to my lofty position; I was a level Epsilon when I underwent this test a few centuries ago.'

The humming grew louder and the Librarian frowned, 'As I thought, the device states that you're an Omega level individual usually referred to as _Untouchables_, _Pariahs_, or _Blanks_. It primarily manifests as a small region of "blankness" surrounding the individual, it is impossible for psychic powers or warp creatures to penetrate this space. Those at an Omega level of psi-negativity can easily be distinguished by others, as Imperial science has shown the dead-area surrounding the subject interferes with natural electrical-mental functions. This often results in irrational fear and loathing of the individual for normal humans. For psykers, however, Omega level persons are physically and mentally painful to be near. You can count yourself as lucky; this level of psych only comes along once a generation per planet, if you were found by the Greater Imperium you would have been inducted into the Culexus Temple of the Assassinorum, that path producing very efficient psyker killers.'

'No, that's not possible Brother-Librarian, I think the possession did that to me, what I displayed in the conflict with the warboss, it is something that I cannot explain.'

'Yes I will test for that right now, though the last test was painless, this might hurt a lot, but since you're a null I can't be sure if my mental probe will detect you, for now just try making your mind as open to me as possible.'

'Yes sir.'

'Brace yourself.'

A curious sensation implanted itself within Alexandro's mind, like an itch. And like an itch, the urge to rid it grew stronger as it began to bury itself deeper and deeper into the barriers that he subconsciously put around himself.

'That barrier is too strong for me neophyte, you'll have to aid me in putting it down.' Larsus said grimacing, eyes closed for the task at hand.

Once he felt the barrier, he tried to lower it, but it was an unmovable force to the power of his will, he mentally began ramming it at the point of the probe for; he rammed it again and again until with the combined effort of the two, one push made the mental barrier shattered like the thinnest pane of glass.

The Librarian was thrown back, smashing a wall and denting it with his armour and was on the floor unmoving, the device on his head began smoking, and Alexandro's vision became pure white, the overwhelming power that had lain latent behind the barrier unleashed once more, this time with no restraint from a force like the greater daemon of Tzeentch. The room flooded with psychic light, tendrils of psych snaking through the insides of the ship and into the space beyond, catching the Imperial fleet in its web like flies, coiling around their massive superstructures like vines and threatening to crush them in its iron grip, the fate of millions was now in his hands not to mention the untold billions who would surely die if the Astartes failed here.

A split second after the power came the strength of will. Utilising it, Alexandro, drew the strands of power back to him, and once again keeping it within the confines of his body. Such power flowed through his veins and now he knew why the daemon of Tzeentch was so eager to possess him, all the displays of power he had done before were nothing compared to the ones he could do now, the promise of crushing entire armies, toppling cities and deciding the fate of worlds was a lot to resist but his encounter with the Lord of Change galvanised his will and he swore to use his powers in the Emperor's name.

Alexandro spent the next few minutes watching sparks flying between his fingertips until the massive figure of the Librarian picked himself off the floor before turning to him with an expression of awe on his face. He picked up the smoking piece of equipment that received the brunt of the blast.

'You're gift is of such magnitude that it cannot be measured by this device…' the Librarian said, shaken, 'you could have destroyed us all but you didn't…your level is probably that of an Alpha-Plus, the strongest level there is.'

'What do you mean by that Librarian?' he asked before flinching, there had been a change to his voice; it was calm, despite the current situation, and mellifluous as the depth of space itself.

'Individuals with such power only appear very rarely, rarer than the Omega flux that you had, perhaps a few individuals have ever displayed it. A few amongst the quadrillions in the Imperium, think about it, you have the power to break a Titan in half with a snap of a finger, I can still feel the echo of what you almost did, it resonates from around you and yet I still can't sense you, its as if your possession made you stronger yet completely undetectable. The Chief Librarian will have to know about this.'

Their conversation was interrupted by the door behind the two opening; Captain Raphael strode in with his command squad at the ready.

'What was the meaning of this?' he boomed, 'the machine spirit of this ship is battered, the ship was almost crushed by that enormous assault, what have you done Larsus?'

'The question is not what I have done, but what Alexandro here almost did.'

The Captain turned to the neophyte with a look of shock on his face. 'Boy, you did this?'

'Yes sir, sorry about the shock, but everything is under control.' Alexandro said smiling.

The Captain rounded back to the Librarian.

'What is the magnitude of his power and is it stable?'

'His abilities are tremendous Captain, an Alpha-Plus, comparable to the might of the Emperor himself, and as for stability, our fleet would be a wreck if he didn't put it under control.'

'So can he be utilised for the Imperium?'

'Yes he can lord, yes he can, though I'm worried about what we'll need to do to train him, for his gifts make him the master and us Librarians the apprentices in terms of manipulating the Warp and I think that his possession makes him immune to all forms of psychic attack or dangers.'

'Then you'll have to get ready for your first mission Alexandro, we have no time to waste, something else has come up.'


	8. Chapter 6: A Chapter Closed

**Chapter 6**

"A true servant of the Emperor knows

that an enemy of his enemy is never his friend."

-Chaplain Leo of the Sagittarians Chapter

*

Alexandro couldn't believe that this was the glorified mission that would save the planet. It had been a week since he was added to the retinue of serfs that served Lord Pandor, a week since he became…a gardener. Of course the Lord knew about his true purpose on his lands but he had to be subtle to prevent any thoughts of dissent, so he was there as a gardener, his true identity only known by Pandor himself, he didn't think that a neophyte of the Chapter could stoop so low, even if it was a mission. As he absentmindedly ploughed the land, having now previous experience in such manual labour and gaining newfound respect at Cletus, Sam and Rhode's previous life, he remembered the grim news that was given to him mere minutes before he was taken off the battlebarge.

'Bad news, brothers,' Captain Raphael had said grimly, 'from what the astropath tells me,' gesturing to a frail man whose psychic light shone dimly like a dying bulb, 'the barriers between reality and the warp are thinning, it seems that they are summoning denizens from the empyrean: daemons.'

There had been another intake of breath, and with his new powers Alexandro could almost taste the anger in the minds of his brother marines.

'I now come to the conclusion that the corruption of the nobility has been going on for years if not decades, for a ritual to summon their hosts can't be done easily. So this presents an even greater danger to you Alexandro and Lord Pandor.'

'That's fine,' Alexandro replied coolly, 'I just need to keep myself from exploding with the force of a nuclear warhead.'

He regretted that comment an instant later when he was under the stern gaze of the esteemed Captain.

'I guess we wouldn't want that either,' he replied, 'get packed, armoured and ready for flight in thirty minutes.'

His melancholy was interrupted by a high pitched voice.

'Hey, servant, fetch me my stick, I feel like taking darling Strawberry here for a walk.'

Alexandro turned to see a tall girl about his age in a smart rider's uniform pulling a magnificent cream-coloured stallion along by its reins, oh yes; he was also a personal servant of Lord Pandor's daughter.

'Yes Mistress Sylvia.' he replied grudgingly, dropping his tool and running off to the stables to get her riding stick. He got back ten minutes later, sweating in the equatorial sunlight for he had ran the whole way, she wasn't happy.

'What do you call this lack of effort servant?' she said, taking the stick from him and smacking his head with it, 'I wish that daddy got a better servant than you.'

Alexandro's eyes narrowed, the tasks that she set upon him were testing his physical fitness to the limits and she called him incapable, this was as tough as the Astartes regimens if not tougher. It also didn't help how she never called him by name, only calling him by the lowly title of 'servant' or 'serf'. But he was getting used to it, the Imperial ethos telling him to endure; eventually there would be salvation…eventually. Sylvia raised an eyebrow at his sweaty face, eyes narrowing too as if in contemplation.

'You should accompany me servant,' she said, reaching a decision, 'I don't want to get lost out there, it's a dangerous place.' this was preposterous as the fields need to be ploughed by sundown and Sylvia's was practically safe within her home-fort as thousands of guards patrolled the complex. 'Besides, I've even packed us a picnic.' she said in a more cheerful tone as if it would solve all his problems.

'My lady,' he said, 'I would gladly go with you if I could but…'

'No buts,' she said, cutting him off, 'you come with me now, or else I'll tell father.'

Alexandro gave and exasperated sigh; that threat didn't even have any power for he wasn't even a real servant belonging to her house, her father's displeasure would probably be a short but stern lecture on keeping in role instead of a beating of which he was certain she imagined.

'Very well my lady.'

*

The next ten minutes were spent packing for the _exciting excursion_ that Sylvia had planned before they set off into the forest within the lord's domains where it was filled with game –all predators had been exterminated for the safety of the lord's children. Alexandro felt a peace that he hadn't felt in a while as they traversed the winding path to some unknown destination, the natural tranquillity and beauty of this preserved sanctuary took his breath away, in his short life on Chiron Beta, he hadn't seen many trees for the skyline was filled with kilometre-tall buildings. The wind whistled in his ears and he reached his mind out to the native wildlife, the myriad of activities going on around him, the barrages on the senses, was beautiful.

'Servant,' came a familiar voice, 'what are you doing?'

Alexandro opened his eyes to see that Sylvia upon her horse was a dozen or so metres in front of him, he had stopped, embarrassed he quickly caught up in a few long strides.

'Nothing my lady,' he replied hastily, 'just having nice thoughts.'

After an hour more of walking around, they finally reached her sanctuary, Alexandro angrily noticed the spires of the castle not too far away; she had made them walk around in circles just to bug him. The spot was a beautiful place, a meadow with a river meandering across, and a waterfall in the backdrop, all man-made Alexandro guessed.

'Servant, you're all sweaty, go take a wash in the river.' she said pinching her nose as if to prove her point.

This order was one that Alexandro was all too happy to oblige; he needed the cool water to rinse his limbs of grime and sweat that he had collected during the course of the day. He stripped down to his skin tight bodyglove before diving into the clear waters of the river, the coolness suffused his body and he felt relaxed, he submerged himself underwater, already having lost his fear of drowning thanks to his Multi-Lung, and began to calm his thoughts from the recent weeks of bloodshed. He released the sweat that had stored itself into the absorbent body glove and began to rinse his head.

He felt a painful crack to the head by a wooden object that burst his bubble of happiness, grimacing, he surfaced to see Sylvia looking at him worriedly.

'You've been down there for three minutes,' she said in a more mature tone, 'I thought you were dead, how did you hold your breath for that long.'

Alexandro was fazed by his ignorance of time, 'I used to swim in the lake near where I lived before,' he lied smoothly, 'so I can hold my breath for a long time.'

'Oh,' she said, her eyes sparking at an idea, 'want to see who can hold their breath longest? I'm a good swimmer too.'

'That isn't a good idea my lady…'

'What? Are you scared that you'll get beaten by a _girl_?'

Sighing again he replied, 'Whatever you wish my lady.'

He looked down at the water that was emanating light, he thought he had grown used to his new eyes by now but the rippling hypnotic display of light that the water produced was beautiful. As he peered closer, a torrent of water erupted from beside him, the ripple effect of water getting into and temporarily stinging his eyes, he looked to the right to see a pair of chocolate brown eyes centimetres away from his peering into the depths of his own. He flinched inwardly though on the outside he remained as passive as ever, he didn't like being so close to her, her tastes and character didn't appeal to him, and as he stared into her eyes he read a hint of fondness for him.

'You're a strange person servant,' she said, not blinking or moving away, 'I've noticed a few things, I don't think that you're a normal gardener, I always see you walking off somewhere at night.'

She was right and Alexandro was shocked by her perceptiveness, he made a daily report to the _Invictus_ every night as well as checking his hidden repository of wargear that he buried behind a bush.

'You stalk me?' he asked dubiously, before remember his manners and adding, 'my lady?'

She smiled, 'of course I don't _stalk_ you; it's just that you seem different to the other servants of mine who usually give up on me after a few days. So what say you? You ready to race?'

They spent the next hour in the river, swimming around. And true to her word, Sylvia was a professional swimmer, almost beating Alexandro, who had never swum properly before amongst the hive blocks from whence he came, in the races that she made. She compensated by giving herself a head start of a few seconds which usually decided the race, where she was fluid and graceful, he was clumsy and unrefined. _Just like my powers,_ Alexandro thought to himself.

The swimming soon lost its fun, for Sylvia, he was reluctant to part with the water. They left the coolness behind to eat a meal beneath the shade of a tree. The food was delicious, probably smuggled away or taken off some poor cook; it consisted of pastries, sandwiches, candied pineapple and sweet meats, Alexandro had not eaten so well since the parties of his old life when celebrating a festivity. He scolded himself for being so nostalgic, he was an Astartes and it was an honour to serve the Emperor.

'Tell me about yourself,' Sylvia said suddenly, 'the life you lived before serving my father.'

'It's a long story…'

'We have time.'

'No we don't, it's almost sunset.'

'Yes we do because I say so.' Sylvia said stubbornly, her eyelids drooping.

This surprised Alexandro who had forgotten about having at least eight hours of sleep a day, the Astartes had a maximum of four and the neophytes had followed suit, he looked at her quizzically.

'I'm tired,' she said sleepily, having evidently changed her mind, 'let's go back now.'

Alexandro stood up and walked to the horse.

'Don't leave me here,' she said, 'I can't get up on my own you know.'

He sighed, turned back and lifted her to her feet, assisted her in walking to her horse, before lifting her up and putting her on the saddle. He then turned back to pack up all the equipment when all of a sudden, the mood of the forest changed, its calmness replaced by tension. Alexandro quickly wrenched all the items from the ground, packing the leftover food brusquely before rapidly pacing back to the horse. He didn't know how to ride the horse so he stood beside it and probed in on with his mind, the horse whinnied once before setting off at a face trot, obviously perturbed by the change in atmosphere.

A few minutes in and the forest just kept on getting darker and darker, every rustle of leaves seemed a threat and the wind now howled, Alexandro looked up at the sleeping figure of Sylvia, unaffected by the storm, and found himself worrying over her fate.

Alexandro's sixth sense screamed a moment before a dark shadow, moving impossibly fast, leapt from the sickly greenery and onto him.

*

Alexandro had a fleeting vision of a massive quadruped monster before being pummelled by its mass, he swiftly moved fell and kicked up, using the massive beasts' weight against it, he flipped it away and got a real glance as to what he was facing.

The thing that rolled itself over was an unholy fusion of living metal and burning muscle, it reeked of blood and its bloodthirsty presence dismayed Alexandro for it was no earthly beast, it was a foul warp spawn of Chaos the archenemy. Claws like daggers protruded from its paws and fangs as long as sabres jutted from a massive filthy maw caked with rotted flesh. It was as big as the terrified horse that it swiped at, its metallic claws rupturing its innards and spraying the beast with gore, this served to make it even more frenzied. It turned before charging at Alexandro, he knew that he only had microseconds to act.

His instincts, honed by hours at the training hall under the strict tutelage of Octavius, saved his life.

He took out the only weapon he did not part with whilst undercover; his sacred bolt pistol, from a holster at the back of his bodyglove, to leave it behind in the face of such danger was folly. He raised his arm before loosing a volley of explosive rounds into the centre of the daemonic mass of his foe. The bolts hit home, but the hellhound did not seem to feel the pain from the wounds nor was it slowed in the slightest. Alexandro looked down at his skin that was already beginning to glisten, as if his psychic powers lay beneath his skin, brimming with strength that could not be held in the immaterial plane. He then sent bolts, now enhanced by his psych, into the hound, this met with more success as the psychic energy shredded through the wards and sorcery that bound the daemon to the material universe, blowing out chunks of its flesh and, with its psychic eye, parts of its essence.

The beast collapsed in mid run and yet did not die. It just glared at Alexandro maliciously through burning orbs that hung in the sockets of its plated cranium as it picked itself up and in that instant he saw the aspect that brought the beast into being. A vision of an endless sea of blood within a fortress of war, a thunderous sky tinged with red, a mountain of skulls, and a brass throne which beheld the hellhound's laughing master. A winged crimson giant hundreds of feet tall, clad in brass armour sanctified with blood, and wielding a massive axe and whip in each hand bellowing his rage at his cowering subjects.

This was amplified as Alexandro sensed a dozen more of the hellhounds watching him from the darkness, probing him with some dark amusement

A lesser man would have succumbed mind wracking pains of this vision. But Alexandro, having already been possessed by a Lord of Change before successfully throwing the Daemon, was no lesser man. He saw corruption and lies where most others would see temptation, its presence was vile, like a canker in the galaxy for how could a creature of lies manifest itself righteously in a galaxy of truth?, it was a contagion that only deserved one fate: annihilation.

He drew on his hatred and it gave him strength. He concentrated his anger until it was a white hot ball of pure fury before unleashing it in a massive blast of light.

The immense wall of energy that blasted into the ranks of daemonic steeds was devastating, it dissolved their unholy essences in an instant before sending them back roaring into the warp.

Though his repository of power was hardly diminished, his effort at directing the blast had drained his willpower and that left him physically exhausted. Clammy and tired, he trudged over to the dying stallion and to the rider of the unfortunate animal: Sylvia. Her livid skin already had the telltale signs of bruises that would appear within the next few minutes but Alexandro could sense that most of her pain lay with her damaged internal organs and a few broken bones. Her eyes were closed as if facing the sun itself, he shook her. She yelped in fright before whimpering and turning her head away from his, whimpering some ancient prayer on forgiveness, Alexandro then realised that his skin was still radiating his psychic might, he dimmed the light and placed a few wards of deception around his form so to her he looked normal.

'Sylvia, come, we should get back before something else comes.' Alexandro said urgently

She whimpered in pain, finished muttering her prayer before opening her eyes; the emerald green flared with fear and hate.

'You're a witch.'

The statement was an accusation, fuelled by the millennia of ingrained prejudice that saw the psyker as a threat to the Imperium was an annoyance, it was a cruel irony that the Imperium was dependant on the beings it hated the most, for without psykers; the Imperium would flail around blind, deaf and mute. And yet the young Marine was hurt by the vicious indictment coming from a person he thought he trusted.

'Yes I am.' Alexandro whispered gently.

'Get away from me,' she yelled, 'you're tainting me, you sent those hounds to kill me, you could have shot me with your pistol.'

'Kill you?' Alexandro asked disbelieving, 'talk sense girl, I just sent them off, and if I _wanted_ to harm you I would have done so before today, the fact that you're still alive now proves my point exactly.'

Sylvia moaned in pain.

'I think I broke something,' she murmured, 'my abdomen is bruised, help me up.' Sylvia paused looking up into Alexandro's grimy but unreadable face and smiled, 'sorry about what I just said, I wasn't thinking right, you are a true friend though I suspect you aren't really one of my serfs.'

Alexandro mirrored her smile.

'No, that I'm not mistress.'

He knelt down and lifted her up tenderly, their equipment forgotten, before walking back down the path to the fort, counting on his incomplete Astartes physiognomy to cope with the strain.

*

Alexandro was once again sheathed within his intricate carapace armour beside Lord Pandor, everyone had eyed the Chapter symbol adorning his shoulder with awe, his identity now out in the open; everyone knew that the Space Marines were here. This brought a few fearful glances from the nobles who surrounded a massive hardwood table, this amused Alexandro for it wasn't so long ago when he himself was looking at the mythic figures of the Astartes with such awe, to be the subject of it now was discomforting.

'Something is happening throughout my domains.' Lord Pandor said, 'Yesterday, Lord Draco, my own younger brother, has seceded from our rule denouncing me as a traitor to the people, he has called out for arms to topple the throne of our family that has ruled this world for millennia. And the people have replied, fully half of our armed forces on the continent have forsaken their oaths to the family to bring destruction to our home, it is happening all across the continent.'

Alexandro nodded. The small continent of Arca was home to the nobility of the planet, where the skies were unaffected by the pollution generated by the rest of the hive world, a haven for the rich, and it had luckily escaped the fate of an ork invasion since the defences were being set up at the heart of the industrial zone of the planet. And being the savage animals they were, they headed right to the most defended zone of the planet where a good fight was guaranteed.

Lord Pandor pressed a few keys on a control panel recessed into his edge of the massive table. A hololith projector in the table lit up showing the council a holo-map of the continent, showing many settlement and towns scattered across the continental plains. What caught Alexandro's attention was how the red zone, signifying the rebels, took about two-thirds of the districts with a small area of partisan blue to the east that included the fort of Lord Pandor.

'Things are going badly.' Lord Pandor said dourly, 'About half of our planetary defence forces mutinied overnight, taking strategic locations in a lightning raid. What heavy weapons and vehicles they couldn't take they managed to destroy. By the time I could rally the loyalists through the sabotaged emergency vox, the continent was almost in enemy hands.' He twisted a few dials that highlighted a few zones within the red.

'They took out most of our foundries and intercepted the trade routes that are vital for us to survive, we have managed to hold out a few areas but they are being stressed by enemy forces who are better supplied and equipped then our men.' Twisting a brass dial one highlighted zone was zoomed into.

'This is the lynchpin of their campaign; Epimetheus. This city controls the production of ammunition, the only one that is left under our control, and it also produces the food that we will need in a drawn out war, without it our forces will starve and surrender, defecting to the enemy and destroying us. Currently, a force of about two thousand men are defending it against a force ten times their size, they are holding out with their almost limitless supplies but even then their fate lies on a knifes edge for they are running short on one thing they cannot replace, manpower. We will send a task force of about a thousand men by air to hold it out until reinforcements arrive, I will personally lead fifteen thousand men to break the blockade but in that time Alexandro here will lead the strike force to relieve the force.'

Alexandro was suddenly aware of twenty pairs of eyes watching him attentively.

'Astartes will there be more of you to aid our plight?' asked a nobleman, face lined with age, the worst of it held back by rejuvenating formulas administered by his physicians.

'I'm afraid not sir,' he replied, 'my master's forces are spread thinly across the planet subjugating a massive ork invasion that threatens to destroy this sector, I'm afraid that I will be the only Astartes aiding this internal conflict.' This brought sighs from the assembled men as their thoughts turned to doubt and dismay, this sickened Alexandro who knew that this wasn't the opportunity to be brought into the Imperial fold but just the simple means of survival for most of the lords, but he couldn't act now, he was no diplomat, he was a warrior and for now it was time for war.

'And now for the cold hard truth lords,' he continued grimly, 'this isn't a mere rabble of men we're facing, these events have clearly been manipulated by outside forces for a long time, what I met when out with Lord Pandor's daughter were denizens of the warp, they are attempting to summon daemons into the mortal plane and if they are, this world is in a greater danger than anyone has previously perceived.' This revelation brought shocked looks and cries of outrage, fear overwhelming their weak minds for an instant, and Alexandro forgave them, for the archenemy had many faces but all having one thing in common, they were sculpted out of pure nightmares.

Changing tact, 'I gratefully accept the role as acting commander to your men Lord Pandor; I will bring the heads of the leaders here, ending this heresy once and for all.'

Before boarding the immense shuttles that would carry the reinforcements, Alexandro made a quick detour to the hospital wing of the fortress, striding past the empty beds soon to be full with the injured, until he reached the beautifully adorned bed of Sylvia Pandor. She lay unconscious with multiple tubes snaking around her body, her time in the bacta-tanks had healed most of the damage that had been done by the fall but she had been affected by the psych that Alexandro had emitted and so she needed her rest. He looked down to her sleeping form and knew that this would probably be the last time he would ever see her. He stood in vigil of the chamber for a few more minutes, reading her life signs on the monitor, contemplating the fact that she opened that possibility of a normal human life without a care for the greater galaxy, but he would not regret his choice, an Astartes had higher goals, he turned away and walked to the hangar bay, closing a chapter of his life forever.

*

'Three minutes and counting,' the pilot of the Ballista-class gunship said through the ship's vox, 'we are approaching the city, prepare for descent.' And true to his word, the once level massive shuttle began its dangerous dive into the unknown. Alexandro was clamped in a harness aware of yet again more nervous gazes of the commandos in the vicinity. Boys from all over the Imperium were told of the legendary figures that were the Space Marines from a young age either through sermons made by fanatical Cardinals or whispered myths. They said that they were the undying will of the Emperor made manifest, that they could do anything – rip a man apart, live forever, face the greatest foes of humanity and win. Some didn't really believe that they existed, but still treated them as a symbol the Imperium could stand behind. Others thought that they were fighting the battles far off, the ones that really mattered, far from this lonely planet in the Segmentum Ultima.

But now they were in the presence of one. Alexandro was truly an intimidating sight, seven foot tall in his powered carapace armour, and he knew that the soldiers would fight all the harder just to prove to him that they were higher than the commoners that populated the world, he was more of a symbol than a soldier to them.

He sensed a change in engine pitch a minute later; they were going through the cloud layer that had concealed them this far and into the sights of the enemy, and this was when the skills of the pilot would be tested. The frame of the ship groaned when the anti air batteries let loose as it struggled to move out of their fire.

Alexandro heard a priest amongst the soldiers yell out an ancient prayer above the din that was soon mirrored in the throats of the forty men in the shuttle. But he was calm and silent amidst the uproar, checking his wargear for the last time before whispering the Rites of Detestation to himself.

He had outlined his plan to the commandos an hour before and he expected the plan to work to perfection. They would send the three larger transport shuttles holding the rest of the troops to the base while they themselves would do something unorthodox; striking the command structure before the fight had even begun, a straight out Codex fight, bringing the fight to the enemy. Alexandro switched the command vox chat.

'Pilots, break formation, we'll be going on from here, the Emperor protects.'

'Yes sir, the Emperor protects!' came the unified reply from the pilots. Alexandro unclipped himself from the harness and motioned for the other soldiers to do the same.

'Men,' he said quietly, his voice carrying over the noise surrounding them, 'today we do the Emperor's works by relieving the people of Epimetheus and winning this campaign for the Imperium. I will lead you to victory, there is no doubt about it, but prepare yourselves for the horrors that come from the warp but stay steadfast, have faith in the immortal Emperor _brothers._' The last word brought an inner light from the depths of their souls, to be recognised as an equal of a Space Marine, it was an honour that knew no bounds. An alarm wailed as the ramp of the gunship went down, it was time. Alexandro clamped down his helmet on his head, covering his face with the grimacing helmet, slinging the oversized jump pack on his back he turned back to the men once more.

'Jump packs ready, and I'll see you at the target, death from above!'

He charged off the ramp and jumped into the belly of the beast.

*

The platoon of commandos landed in hell. Amidst a sea of cultists, Alexandro saw through their minds what an entrance they made. Armoured warriors with hellpistols, blazing flashes of high intensity beams into the enemy with prayers of benediction at their lips, struck fear into the enemy, but not as much as the being that led them. A vengeful Space Marine. Towering over the battle, striding through their ranks with a roaring chainsword and massive bolt pistol equipped in both hands reaping souls with every swing and pull of the trigger, the death throes of the enemy shone with terror as they were struck down by the righteous. Alexandro saw their weak minds and saw their greatest fear, a Chapter of Space Marines landing within their midst, being brought up to the light of the Emperor for their crimes. He took his hatred once more and concentrated it until it was a white hot ball of light so bright that made him shine. Channelling it through his skin into reality of the air, the heretics then knew the true meaning of fear.

Giants, heroes of the old strode down the ranks fifty feet high, their eyes burning with vengeance and their armour luminescent with the light of the Emperor, he took the fabric of the world around him and warped it so that gleaming cathedrals rose thousands of kilometres into the atmosphere, gleaming streets with flags dedicated to the triumphs of the Imperium took the place of muddy fields and the accusatory stares of the dead watched the enemy. Most of the cultists just died in that instant, those who survived were reduced to gibbering wrecks, their minds flayed and broken by the sheer enormity of their Fear. The soldiers around him stared in awe as the massive figures walked amongst them. Alexandro then felt a presence who he knew was unaffected by the vision, its devotion to the Chaos pantheon so great that its mind was beyond the mind trick that Alexandro had conjured. He turned to see a figure of a man watching him with lethal malice.

The lord of the insurgents was not human, that much Alexandro could tell instantly, the massive daemon bodyguards flanking their master showed him that, he had willingly sold his soul to a greater daemon so that it would exist on the material plane cloaked in his flesh. Its flesh writhed with barely contained powers and mutations or _blessings _were evident, the daemon was growing stronger and flexing its ethereal muscles, Alexandro's eyes were drawn to the weapon that had been forged in death and sanctified in blood and infused with daemons. The possessed hybrid held a massive two-handed power sword that stank of corruption and dripping with contagions in one grotesquely enlarged hand that wielded the blade like a willow switch, the other hand bore a baroque pistol that contained howling spirits within its arsenal. He gave Alexandro a thin lipped smile showing a mouth lined with teeth sharpened to the points before beckoning him forward with the hand that was, want for a better word, clean. Alexandro let the image of the champion drown out the senses of battle, focusing on his unclean form and drawing on his rage.

'Cover me, suppressing fire!' called a stern voice, it took a second for Alexandro to realise that the voice was his.

'Yes sir!' came the reply before the air was alive with threads of fire that stitched across the no-mans land. The remaining cultists standing dazed were quickly eviscerated by precise beams as Alexandro dived into the fray.

Alexandro sprinted towards the mound on which the monster stood, vanquishing the daemons with blasts of psych before slowing down and looking up upon what used to be a man who had sold his soul in an attempt to topple the Master of Mankind from his Golden Throne on Terra: Lord Draco…

The Betrayer.

*

'You,' said Alexandro, marching towards the erstwhile Lord. With every step, more of Draco's treachery was revealed, sores and infected wounds covering his pallid skin, the shadow moving within the sword. Where there once was a man, Alexandro now saw a traitor who did not deserve existence, a fell light radiated from his decayed splendour further showing how far he had fallen, and Alexandro knew that nothing of the corrupted man lay within the diseased husk standing crookedly before him.

'Ah, young Marine,' said Draco, each syllable uttered from its ruined and inflated throat sloppy and wet, as if spoken through water, 'your brashness surprises me.'

The mocking and bubbly tone that came from the bruised trachea was made huskier as crushed vertebrate punctured the soft flesh in dozens of exit wounds, Alexandro felt more compelled to destroy it, he kept enough sense to know that this grinning effigy of Chaos had more to it than met the eye. His grip on his weapons tightened.

'You,' Alexandro continued, 'you want to bring ruination to the Emperor's greatest works? A filthy abhorrence the likes of you deserves only one fate: obliteration.'

The monster giggled with mirth, all the while more protuberances erupted from his body as it began to shake of its mortal cloak.

'Young sorcerer,' it chuckled, 'we needn't be enemies, embrace the powers of Chaos and we could be allies, embarking on a course to become masters of the galaxy, embrace the immortal necrosis that flood through my veins and you will experience the glory of Grandfather Nurgle.'

'Do not call me by such a title you filth,' Alexandro retorted, 'I know the foul truth of Chaos and the unbridled powers of the warp, nothing you can say will turn me away from the light of the Emperor for I am like you, I just came from my conflict with my daemon triumphant.'

The daemon's grin faltered, obviously perturbed by this statement, and probed Alexandro's mind to glean the truth from his words.

'So you rejected Chaos, so willing to embrace you with open arms, only an absolute fool would resist the temptations of such power.'

'A fool I am not, my encounter with Chaos has left me stronger and you are the fool for accepting slavery beyond mortality,' Alexandro said stoking the flames to his rage, 'you Chaos spawn talk too much, enough of this, its time for the Emperor's judgement to be placed upon you, hope that he forgives you for I will not.'

'Ah, I will miss this banter once your blood slicks my sword,' it sighed, 'I cannot die young one as you will find out yourself, this is your last chance.'

Alexandro took the first strike, striding out and driving his sword into the chest of Draco, the whirring blade easily parting the layers of corruption towards the traitor's pus ridden heart. Black ichor sprayed as the chainsword dealt massive internal damage, rupturing organs and parting flesh from bone. Draco merely laughed, unaffected by the mere mortal wound, before bringing his own blade into play.

'So be it, die well Marine.'

With a speed and swiftness that belied its bloated stature, the corrupted blade lunged towards Alexandro's throat. Barely raising his arm and blocking the stab, he lifted his other arm and released a salvo of shells from his pistol that punctured the mass of Draco before, seeing that there was no damage done, holstering the weapon and taking his chainsword in a two-handed grip. Alexandro would have obliterated the daemon with his psych if it weren't for the fact that he was currently fighting for his life, what used to be Draco being unrelenting in its attacks, not giving him a moment's respite. He found himself fighting like never before, his every swing either a parry or a block before the corrupted sword that dexterously swam through the air, the show of skill was horrifying as Alexandro was slowly battered by the assault.

What seemed like an eternity later, they were no closer to beating one another as they were at the start, Alexandro's once immaculate armour was now scored with dozens of dents, each signifying a close call with death, and the daemon was no better, its innards now lay in a twisted heap around him and it was sweating a mucous-like substance that slicked the traitor's malformed skin. Alexandro ducked under a blow and blindly flailed upwards, the toothy blade changing pitch as it hit something other than air, gore sprayed over him as the traitor roared, something heavy hit the ground before twitching and pulling itself along aimlessly around the dirt, the miscalculated strike had cost the daemon its arm and that gave Alexandro the breathing space he needed. He could now go on the offensive, the tables had turned. Another eternity was spent hammering the daemon with a series of stabs, slashes and chops, but even with one arm, it was still a formidable opponent. But in the end, Alexandro could not be denied, he baited the exhausted daemon and flourished his sword around its thirsty blade before knocking it aside and lunging forward, aiming for the daemon's head.

Instead of blocking the strike that would end its existence, Draco turned his blade and stabbed at Alexandro's chest, the inertia was too great; Alexandro couldn't have changed the path of the blade even if he wanted to at the moment of realisation. Both blades struck home at the same instant, Alexandro's blade breaking open his foe's cranium and making a mess of its brain, as Draco's tore into his torso, shredding his primary heart and lungs.

Alexandro cried out in agony as the venomous concoction of diseases entered his bloodstream and into his bones like lit liquid promethium, his vision faded as his Oolitic Kidney went into overdrive in an attempt to flush out the poisons but he knew that it wouldn't be enough. The last thing he saw before slipping into oblivion was the mangled head of the now-dead greater daemon hitting the parched earth with a resigned _flop._


	9. Chapter 7: Rebirth

**Chapter 7**

"I command six companies of the Emperor's finest,

Emperor show mercy to the fool who dares stand against me for I shall not."

-Chapter Master Mikhail Jain, at the outset of the Illyrian Crusade.

*

He opened his eyes to nothingness – indescribable, lonesome and devoid of anything – drifting endlessly without a concept of time or space, he couldn't even count the seconds that he had existed in this time lock.

'_Am I dead?' _His thoughts had free rein, he still could feel a cold and crushing sensation throughout where his skin would be if there wasn't this perpetual nothingness so it was there…or was it?

He began to struggle as the sensation on his body grew tighter, constricting him, and he realized that the air that he was breathing was suddenly cut off; he began writhing with his phantom body, searching for escape. Something sharp then entered his spine through the back of his neck, the instant it injected a fluid into his body was when the real pain began. Liquid fire, like promethium, flooded into his bloodstream accompanied with pain, the likes of which he never felt before.

The heat was sudden and intense, as though he had been thrown from the coolness of a lake into the fiery rage of a plasma reactor. All at once, he could feel his senses coming alive, all bathed in tempestuous heat.

He tried to scream pain, but his throat emitted no noise. He tried to thrash around, but it was as if he had lost his freedom of movement. He never felt so helpless in his life, being unable to fight against such wrong. It was as if his whole body turned against him, leaving him only as a witness to the unbearable pain that currently racked his body.

He looked down and noticed a light streaming through him, his blood had been illuminated and now he could see and feel every individual blood vessel and capillary, it crept down his neck and into his abdomen, arresting the forms of his hearts and lungs before working its way down to his feet until a network of lights shone from his body.

He would have gazed in wonder if the mind numbing pain didn't overwhelm him with searing heat dragging him down to unconsciousness.

After an immeasurable amount of time, he woke up again to the pain that he thought he left behind, he reached out with his mind and enveloped his body to ease the pain but it didn't work, the intensity of the pain always increased, sometimes gradually and sometimes dramatically.

After going in and out of consciousness a few times – where he just awoke from a dreamless sleep to a world like the one that he just left, with the exception of his illuminated body – he noticed a change. His vessels had a different placement, his body was changing, undergoing a metamorphosis into something different, for better or worse he did not know. The pain had stopped spreading and now it was this constant zone of ache that he quickly grew accustomed too, it was bearable now and he had the time to think of his surroundings, as dismal as it seemed.

He extended his mind into darkness. _'How did I get here?'_ was one of the myriad of questions that assailed his mind, but they all led back to one key subject: _'Who am I?'_

He had expected an answer, a clarion call amidst all this nothingness, but he got none. The last image he had was of an ancient blade piercing his chest and the pain that had rendered him into oblivion, how he got to this unnatural limbo in the time-space continuum was beyond him but he was determined to find out. He was just a collection of ideas that belonged to someone, but they were presently jumbled up in the vastness of the time-lock that he was in.

An alien mind touched his as he reached out with his awareness, the defendant recoiled from the contact at first but it soon, curiosity overcoming it, lowered its barriers. A cool breeze blew against his face as something vastly alien yet psychically inferior addressed him.

'_Who are you mon-keigh?' _asked a smooth voice in his mind, its gender implacable merely by tone.

'_Mon-keigh?' _he replied brokenly, his tongue slipping over the slick word that it couldn't form properly.

'_Human,' _the voice replied, irritated, as though it was putting itself through pains to pronounce the ugly word, '_that is what my people refer to you.'_

'_I'm human…'_ this was revelation enough for him as he grasped onto that fragment of truth, he was human, and this voice wasn't.

'_Yes, I am curious as to how you have contacted me this way, a surprising feat of psych for your cumbersome species. I ask again, who are you mon-keigh?'_

'_I don't know, but you could begin by telling me what you are. You speak as if you weren't one.'_

If the mind could have grimaced, it would have done so in that instant.

'_To be associated with your pathetic species would be an insult to my honour human, I am a proud child of Eldanesh, following the Path of the Seer, any Emperor-fearing citizen would know by now what I am…' _the voice said, a hint of pride touching its voice, '_I am Eldar, human, an Eldar of the Ulthwe craftworld.'_

His mind was in turmoil, he remembered fragments of memories showing the Eldar as a fickle and treacherous foe, swiftly stalking their prey from the shadows and fielding massive constructs of warp-bone to house their spirits. They were a dying species, but he knew that an animal would fight hardest when it was cornered; they were still a threat to the Imperium.

The Imperium…

Something stirred within his mind as the barrage of _'Who am I?'_ returned; he began to piece together the memories, the ideals. The Imperium, Humanity, the Emperor…

…Space Marines.

The pieces finally fit, and Alexandro of the Sagittarians arose from the nothingness within a pinion of light, illuminating the void, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of destruction.

The Eldar nodded content, as if this entire event had been foreseen eons past, aware of its part to play in this grand scheme.

'_Ah, Alexandro the Illuminated, I have been expecting you,'_ said the voice, beckoning him towards a tunnel of pure warp energy shimmering with light, '_your arrival has been foreseen, come, there is much to explain.'_

Alexandro followed the alien, for all intents and purposes, to learn from it, bathing himself in light.

*

The tunnel led to him to a world of unbelievable beauty with a vista of incomparable splendour. Alexandro marvelled at the ecosystem coexisting in such harmony, the very trees around him thrumming with inner energy. He realised that he now had a physical form now in this ethereal plane, much like the one of reality, and he also noticed that he wasn't alone.

A cabal of hooded figures stood in a circle around him, most of them inhuman Alexandro guessed by their stature and their height, but what surprised him was how some of the members _were_ human judging by the shape of their jawline – the only thing that he could see through the cowls. A human to willingly integrate himself with such xenos would have been looked down upon as a heretic by the greater Imperium and shot by the Emperor-fearing folk.

'Ah,' said a sombre voice, its accent implacable in location but almost definitely human, 'another illuminated individual has joined us.'

'Oh enough Seth,' snorted an alien voice, 'what does this boy have that we don't, you mon-keigh always find boring things interesting.'

'He has seen the truth of the Primordial Annihilator, Harlequin, as we all have,' the man replied, unfazed by the slander, 'but he has a rare power, and the strength of will to keep it in check, he might be the first Alpha-Plus signature individual to be graced with illumination.'

'Uh, what is this illumination?' asked Alexandro amidst the debate, 'and who are you people?'

One figure stepped forward from the group and took of its hood to reveal a face too young for its eyes. 'We are members of the Cabal young Alexandro, the humans here are also part of the Illuminati,' came the now-familiar voice of Seth, 'all victims of greater daemonic possession and all survivors. We, like you, have seen the overwhelming threat of Chaos and the failing defences of Humanity.'

Another lifted its head to show a feminine slender face with cat-like eyes, this one was wearing a jester's outfit but her demeanour was anything but jesting. 'All of us here are psychic to a degree mon-keigh, and now that we've seen the true light of Chaos, we are all utterly incorruptible,' said the Eldar.

'Do any of you know where I am?' asked Alexandro, 'my memories of recent events are failing me.'

A diminutive figure turned to address him. 'You are in a coma young one,' came a sombre voice that came from under the hood as the Squat spoke, 'presently recovering from the mortal wound that you received from an accursed plague sword. Your physical form is in dire peril right now though it is possible that your greatest apothecaries might have a cure for this. It is so dangerous for that sword was no ordinary weapon; it was dipped in the infectious concoction of diseases from Nurgle's cauldron after its blasphemous creation. Even a Space Marine's physiognomy alone can't flush the toxins out of the system before it's too late.'

Alexandro was deep in thought, what had he witnessed within the mind of the daemon? It was so tempestuous, so chaotic that he barely remembered the encounter. But he knew that it was the ultimate enemy, an anathema to the physical universe, and that humanity's light was...failing; the _God_-Emperor was slowly losing the mental battle He had fought over ten millennia. Soon he would wither and fall apart into a warring faction of thoughts that would result in the fall of the Imperium as well as Mankind. "The Emperor protects" wasn't just a petty statement, it had more truth to it than most people in the Imperium would ever know.

'That is the point of the Illuminati and, as a result, the Cabal young one,' said a piercing voice that broke Alexandro's train of thought. He turned to see a girl watching him attentively with smouldering burgundy eyes before he realised that he had lowered his mental barriers enough for this psyker to read his thoughts, he quickly brought them back up and drew a bit of satisfaction when the girl's face grimaced.

'My thoughts are my own,' he coolly replied, 'isn't it a bit premature for you to call me _young one_?'

The girl threw back her head and laughed exuberantly. 'Ah the nerve you have,' she said through glistening eyes, 'I am more than six hundred years old, _child, _appearances can be deceiving, I look this young because I stopped ageing the moment I was Illuminated by a Greater Daemon of Nurgle, a rare case.'

Turning to address the entire audience, Alexandro brought up the one question that was still nagging his mind. 'Why is this Cabal so secretive? The knowledge of this greater threat should be known by the Imperium, it should be out in the open.'

It was Seth who replied. 'Alexandro, not everyone who undergoes daemonic possession survives, and those who do are usually reduced to mental wrecks or becoming shells for the daemons that possessed them in the first place. Besides if this knowledge was to be brought out into the open, who would believe it? The Ecclesiarchy would denounce those who believe it as heretics, the Inquisition of the Ordo Hereticus would hound us to no end. Who would believe that the Emperor is failing? Who would believe that Chaos would eventually arise ascendant when they've been brainwashed by preachers to accept that the Emperor, their God, would never fail, that he would be in constant vigil?

A few, and out of those few, who would really understand the cause and do whatever it takes to keep Mankind alive? The possibilities are impossible to grasp unless they see what we saw, that is the reason why the Illuminati and the Cabal exists and why we, as a whole, should work under the cover of deception.

And if it was accepted by the Greater Imperium, pandemonium would ensue across the galaxy as the one thing that kept the people complacent, the Emperor, is redundant.'

'Knowledge is power but ignorance is safety.' Alexandro sighed.

'Why yes it is young Alexandro.'

'Then what do you do, apart from conferencing in the shadows.' Alexandro asked.

'We manipulate, as we have done since before the Horus Heresy, the Imperium to slow down the progress of Chaos.' said the girl, 'We have members in the Inquisition which is where we draw our power from, we provide them intel on incursions and those members provide us with secure locations, it is more reliable than the Emperor's Tarot as we have a large supply of farseers in this psychic community to help us with the trivial task of finding the foe. Without us, the Imperium would have failed long ago.'

Alexandro felt annoyance at an issue that he felt hadn't been broached yet. 'But as powerful as you are, you couldn't stop the Horus Heresy from occurring, or the fall of the Emperor. Couldn't you have done anything about it?'

Seth smiled. 'Ah, Alexandro, we are not perfect as much as we would like to think we are, not everything goes according to plan. As for your question, I think you'll need to get the answer from the leaders of the Cabal since the Illuminati have only been active since after the Heresy whilst the Cabal have been fighting this threat for countless millennia, from even before the dawn of man.'

He gestured to a multitude of creatures that just materialised into the landscape before bowing respectively, Alexandro swallowed as he beheld the gathering of xenos. Some were multi-limbed entities; others breathed air through vents in their neckline. Some were just a flat piece of skin that radiated intelligence while others were asymmetric and vulpine. An imposing insect sheathed in a chitinous, spiky carapace, walked to the front of the congregation.

The Illuminati and the lesser members of the Cabal as one bowed with their arms spread out wide. The harlequin smiled. 'Hello my masters,' she sighed.

'Greetings, follower of the Laughing God,' announced the insect in perfect Low Gothic, surprisingly undistorted by its many mandibles, 'who have you brought to this meeting Seth?'

'A newly inducted member of the Illuminati: Alexandro of the Sagittarians. He had been possessed by a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch, he is aware of our dire predicament though he wants to know about the events leading up to the Horus Heresy, lord Anun-arak.'

'Ah,' the insect sighed, 'all the new members do, it is painful to bring up the failure of our past though it is necessary.'

Turning to Alexandro, Anun-arak spoke. 'Before even the birth of the man you call the Emperor, the Cabal has been aware of the primordial forces seething in the warp, it is due to our very existence that Chaos also lives. Almost all of the sentient races are psychically attuned to the warp, our feeling bleed of into it.

There once was a time, millions of years ago when the sentient species didn't emit their emotions into the empyrean, but that changed when the Old Ones, in a desperate bid to win the war against the Necrontyr, or Necron as you now know, created us to combat this undying threat. The Eldar and even the Orks amongst many were manipulated in their evolutionary path by the Old Ones. This had unforeseen side-affects on the warp, where it once used to been calm and peaceful, it now churned like a maelstrom as our sentience was leeched into it.

The Necron threat was soon made dormant with the event of the Slavers, and yet we continued to exist, continuously feeding the warp with emotions until, just a few tens of millennia ago, these feeling gained sentience – This was towards the end of Terra's Middle ages so just before the second millennium. At first it was Khorne, Nurgle and Tzeentch until Slaanesh was born towards the end of the Age of Strife. We fought to prevent the births of these entities of the warp but it was inevitable, with the populations increasing exponentially, and when it was seen as futile we made it a solemn duty to slow down their progress in real space.

We have an ancient device called the Acuity that can glean into the possibilities of the future. It predicted before the Great Crusade of the fall of Primarch Horus and the malignant suffering that he would cause to the galaxy for millennia to come, but what it couldn't show was the perfect method to stop it from happening.

We tried to see how far the Space Marine Legions then had fallen, and we saw corruption everywhere. The rapid increase in geneseed demand saw it being distorted and impure. The only hope we had was to convince the Alpha Legion, still pure then, to see the threat.'

'And they embraced that power,' Alexandro said, disgusted by the name of the traitor legion, 'they ignored your warnings and turned away from the emperor, denouncing the loyalists for being lackeys of a fallen God.'

'Not quite,' Anun-arak replied, 'this is a first for a righteous Space Marine to be illuminated, the Exorcists Chapter do not count since they've only been partially illuminated by lesser daemons. This will be hard for you to accept but...the Alpha Legion is the most loyal and stalwart of the original Space Marine legions.'

Alexandro reeled back from the statement, was this alien trying to suggest that all the horrors that the traitor marines of the Alpha Legion had done over ten thousand years was null? 'But that is impossible, they sided with Horus, they sided with the archenemy.'

'They sided with Horus because we convinced them too, without our manipulation they would have sided with the Emperor and the Heresy would have turned out differently.'

More surprises. 'So you wanted the galaxy to burn?' Alexandro asked, barely able to keep his temper in check.

'Yes we did, we foresaw that if Horus won, he would have a shred of humanity left within him to destroy what he had done, to immolate himself and his allies over the course of a couple of centuries. So we convinced Alpharius-Omegon to side with Horus, sending them to the fateful system soon afterwards.'

'What sort of vision was that?' Alexandro retorted angrily, 'you were talking about the death of mankind.'

'A lesser of two evils, with the destruction of mankind would Chaos finally wither and die, it wasn't everyday where we condemned an entire space-faring species to death.'

'But why mankind...why us?'

'Despite embracing science over religion during the Great Crusade, you were weak, unknowing of the threat that lay beyond the veil.'

'But that is a paradox, you call atheism right and yet you fight _Gods_ of the warp.'

The massive insect sighed. 'We are well aware of that, for that is why, instead of calling them deities; we call the overwhelming threat of Chaos the Primordial Annihilator. It is mankind's weakness during the Horus Heresy to see the intelligence in Chaos as Gods, for the Primordial Annihilator is our basest instincts made manifest and so they appeal to sentient species, the stupidity of such races still confounds me.'

'So you saw the crippling of the Emperor at the hands of his favoured son? Why didn't you warn him of the impending doom?'

'That is a long story that we will tell you once you've proven yourself to be a loyal member of the Cabal, but for now, I will tell you that the Emperor is not the man quadrillions of people worshipping him believe him to be. He was just a man with unmatched psychic powers, and if the Imperium recognises that, maybe you humans are so worthless after all.

The Emperor, whose true name is shrouded is mystery as he is actually a collection of thousands of past lives, would have been the only viable _human _candidate as one of the leaders in the Cabal. Only he then knew the evil machinations of the Primordial Annihilator, but why he never told his sons or the Imperium at large is still a mystery. We would have warned him of the threat if he wasn't manipulating the webway for humanity; he was too caught up in his works to really be aware of what was going on outside Terra, leaving Lord Malcador and the fledging Council of Terra to run the massive Imperium.

A God wouldn't have made such a mistake Alexandro, deep beneath that massive psych and physical perfection beats the heart of a man. Now that the fate of the galaxy lies on such knifes edge, His continued survival is a must; mankind is the only bulwark between survival and destruction.

Don't you see? Ever since the Cabal first visited Terra to see ape-men rubbing two sticks together we somehow knew that your species would either be our salvation or damnation, sometimes I wonder if our forefathers shouldn't have just destroyed that world all those years ago.'

'But I don't understand,' Alexandro asked, 'why is the Alpha Legion labelled as heretics when they've tried to do some good to the Imperium?

'Because we made a terrible mistake, they were shown the Acuity, they saw galaxy that would come and they wanted to change it. But with our misdirection then they went beyond redemption, if you read the records of Alpha Legion incursions, they're always hesitant to strike out at the Imperium, they're the only labelled Traitor Legion not to flee to the Eye of Terror after Horus's death, they recruit from existing Space Marine neophytes, they _worship_ the Chaos pantheon instead of particular _Gods_ and their Primarch is the only one not to accept daemon hood after the Heresy.

Although we haven't talked to them since after the Siege of Terra, we suspect that they are still loyalist at heart.'

Alexandro felt the truth in its words, something that he hadn't felt in a long time, he wanted to go down on his knees and weep for the burden of many placed on the shoulders of a few. But he didn't, he was a Space Marine, and he would accept it and save humanity from its terrible fate. He then realised that the Imperium was mostly corrupt, with power hungry scribes getting the power, those who never knew what it was like to see their friends die in battle, to feel the weight of millions of lives on their shoulders. Alexandro swore to do good for the continued survival of mankind, not the Imperium, he knew that the Emperor sitting on his Golden Throne would disapprove of the way the Imperium had gone over the past ten millennia.

The landscape began warping as his anguish bled into the reality around him, throwing the panoramic vista into calamity; this brought worried glances from the aliens around him.

'You have a great power young one,' said Anun-arak, 'use it wisely for you have the power to change the future for the better or for the worse, though unrefined, you will have plenty of opportunities to hone your massive psych. We see into the Acuity and see many futures, each worse than the last and we seek to get the best of both worlds, one that would benefit us all. You will have the chance to look into it once you are deemed ready.'

All of a sudden, a strange sensation engulfed Alexandro, something popped and it was like his soul was being sucked down the drain.

'Looks like your time here is at an end,' Seth said, somehow aware of the change, his image fading away, 'it is time for you to wake up.'

Alexandro fell into darkness.

*

Alexandro woke up to see a black shell of scabs above him. He felt different; his enhanced brain told him that he was now a lot taller and that there were more organs in his body. He tried moving gently but the barrier would not budge, not trusting his body in having the strength, he broke the scabs apart with a blast of psych that sent shattered remains of dried blood into the air.

He was disoriented for a moment as a wave of light and sound was taken in, his eyes and ears quickly adjusted and he looked around his surroundings, his mind at the ready.

He saw a bunch of techpriests rushing towards him with sedatives in syringes, he would have fought if he hadn't noticed Mishalca amongst the gaggle, her vibrant purple eyes shining with fear. A klaxon was wailing in the distance as the techpriests got to him. He saw fear in their eyes.

'Alexandro what are you doing?' asked Mishalca frantically, 'You shouldn't have woken up yet, the process isn't complete, do you feel dizziness?'

'No,' he replied, 'actually I feel great; better than I ever have been before.'

He noticed Apothecary Asclepius striding towards him, the worried techpriests moving aside to let the venerable Marine through. 'These techpriests are right, you should have been down for another day or two,' Asclepius said when he got to the base of the operation table, 'though it looks to me like you've finished early.'

'What happened to me Brother? How long was I out for?'

'You've been out for about three weeks, Marine; the campaign on Pandor is almost over thanks your victory over that traitor. It was a close call Alexandro. There were times over the past few weeks where even I fretted over your fate.'

'Why Brother-Apothecary?' asked Alexandro quizzically.

'Because you hold the key to a new future for our chapter, you now have within you something more than just geneseed, I'll explain later.'

Alexandro nodded. 'And where is my squad? I don't think that I've seen them in over a month now.'

'They are still responsible for rooting out the remnants of the planetary resistance, there are still three regiments hiding in the mountains to quell along with daemons that refuse to go back to the warp without a fight. After those heretics are dealt with, it will be time to move on to annihilating the orks. They're all alive and well, developing into fine marines if I should say so myself.'

'What about me? I feel different.'

The Apothecary laughed. 'You should go check a mirror to see the changes you have undergone.'

Alexandro got off the bench and stood up to his full height to realise that he was almost as tall as the Asclepius in his power armour, he now towered over everything in the room, he reached up and touched the ceiling with his enormous hand.'

'Yes you are now about nine foot,' the Apothecary smiled noticing Alexandro's confused look.

'Shouldn't I feel disorientation Brother? I thought it was natural for one to have instability when growing rapidly.'

'Well not for an Astartes, like this for example,' the Apothecary said reaching for his combat knife before hurling it at him with a flick of his wrist.

Alexandro spared no effort in watching the blade whistling through the air at dangerous speeds before deftly catching it with his left hand, the speed of his reactions astonished him. He even had the time to analyse the knife in flight so well that he was certain he could throw it back in exactly the same way, and he did.

The Apothecary chuckled as he caught the knife. 'Ah that is your muscle memory kicking in, and that was my specialty throw that won me a few bets, now don't go off showing everyone how to do it.'

The next few minutes were spent getting a feel for his new body, his black carapace had been inserted into his skin a week before and he looked at the shadow underneath his skin in wonder, prodding it and punching it to see its strength.

'Its primary function is to make Marines access their suits,' Asclepius said, watching him attentively, 'but they also make for a good protection against hand-to-hand combat, everywhere in your body except for the head is now proof against melee.'

Alexandro then picked up a hand-held mirror and gazed in wonder at the physical perfection of his face, the skin was rock hard and gave out a glistening sheen like that of marble on statues.

Once he was done, he walked out of the room with the techpriests following him, looking at him in amazement. He walked out of the infirmary of the massive ship and all the way to the massive gym, somehow knowing the directions to a venue in a vessel that he hadn't grown accustomed to. He ran around the kilometre-long track twenty times in under half an hour, aware of the time even without a watch, before bench pressing six tonnes of weight. Alexandro was well aware of the fact that the genetors were watching his every move and recording it down on data-slates.

He wasn't even sweating once he finished his one hour training session, and as he walked back to the medicae, he struck a long conversation with Mishalca, who seemed to be the only one brave enough to talk to him, on the origins of life.

'This Darwin man had the right ideas back then, funny how people used to believe solely on religion, I should read more about him later.' Alexandro said as the group entered the medicae to the waiting Apothecary. Mishalca's ever present mask twitched as she smiled before putting a finger over her lips to end the conversation.

'So,' Asclepius asked whilst reading the feedback on his data-slate, 'how did training go.'

'It was almost too easy,' Alexandro replied with barely contained excitement, 'the power that is going through my veins is almost overwhelming.'

'I can see, you are already doing as well as most Astartes would do in their power armour, speaking of which there could be a problem.'

'What problem?' Alexandro asked hesitantly.

'It's your considerable bulk; you are the biggest Astartes to walk amongst this chapter, as tall as we are already. That means that we don't have any armour that will fit you, oh and yes your carapace armour and sword was reduced to slag after contacting the viscous concoction on the surface of that plague sword.'

Alexandro's heart sank slightly, his precious wargear was gone, and he wouldn't be able to get one for a while if ever.

'The artificers of the Chapter are already hard at work trying to find the materials to make a new suit for you,' the Apothecary continued, 'for now even with your enhanced body, you are vulnerable without ceramite encasing you and...'

Asclepius was cut off as a warning klaxon shrilly started to wail, at the same time his vox bead started humming. He tapped it and heard a bridge officer make his report, something on an unidentified ship coming out of the warp.

'It looks like someone has decided to give us a surprise visit,' Asclepius said, 'the Mechanicus are here with reinforcements.'

*

Alexandro watched the ramp of the Mechanicus shuttle come down with a hiss of compressed air. Sheathed in a black, skin-tight body glove, he stood to attention next to Apothecary Asclepius and the few other Astartes remaining on the ship. A bright light from the interior of the ship blinded him for a moment as he saw silhouettes of a multi-limbed humanoid coming down followed by a trail of armed skitarii and techpriests.

Alexandro smiled as he recognised the man leading the procession. 'Magos Arten, we meet again.'

The venerable techpriest looked up into Alexandro's eyes before replying. 'And it's good to see you too noble Marine, I see that you've changed a lot over the past few months.'

'It gladdens me to see that you've recovered from your wounds, the last time I saw you, you were at deaths door.'

'And see the scale of this conflict as well as the resources that this war is taking up, I think that you've seen a fair share of glorious combat in recent times.'

'Ha, I've seen more than a fair share of this war. I'm sure my superiors will want to know why you have come unannounced to this sector.'

'All in due time young Marine, though it has something to do with an order that took a century and a half to complete.'

'Ah,' Alexandro said, understanding the hidden meaning, 'I suppose that the order is here and ready for service.'

'Why yes it is, Marine, though I would like to meet your Chapter Master personally to discuss the details.'

'I'm afraid that you are mistaken Magos, for my Chapter Master is fighting another war systems away.'

'That isn't possible; for this is _The Dreadful Sagittary_ is it not_?_ According to the reports he arrived in-system a week ago.'

This statement baffled Alexandro, he wasn't aware of Mikhail Jain's presence in this campaign, even though he had only been up for a couple of hours, he turned to look at Asclepius pointedly, the Apothecary shrugged.

Turning back to the techpriest. 'Oh, well I have been recovering from a wound for the past few weeks and it has only been but a few hours since I have woken up, I wasn't aware of him being here.'

'That you were not Marine,' came a voice from behind him, Alexandro turned to see a massive Marine encased in Terminator Armour with the Crux Terminatus marking his left pauldron walking to them accompanied by his Honour Guard. He knew that it was the Chapter Master himself; he gave a formal bow to the grand figure.

'I am glad that you have recovered,' he continued when he reached the group, 'your participation and influence in the course of the war is noted and appreciated, for without that swift victory it would have made this war a lot more ugly.'

Alexandro could only mumble a few words of thanks as he bowed again, his self confidence momentarily blown away by the force of personality and charisma the Chapter Master had, here was a man who had the lives of untold millions on his shoulders, his mind was as analytical and as sharp as steel.'

Mikhail laughed, patting Alexandro on the shoulder. 'Yes you will go far up in the Chapter with oratory skills like those.'

'Sorry lord,' Alexandro said more coherently, 'it's just that everything is going so fast.'

'It's alright,' the Chapter Master chuckled before turning to the Magos, 'to business Magos?'

'To business my lord.' the Magos replied, also similarly fazed by the Chapter Master, 'I hope that this discussion will be beneficial for the both of us.'

With that, the Chapter Master with his retinue turned back and walked down the hangar bay to an adjacent corridor with the Mechanicus trailing behind them.

Alexandro then realised that he was holding in his breath and quickly exhaled. 'That was...'

'Terrifying?' asked Asclepius.

'Yes.'

'Well I felt something like that when I first met him, I was reluctant to let someone younger than me take hold of the Chapter, but that was until I met him, I believe that our previous Chapter Master made the right choice in making Mikhail his successor.'

Alexandro could only nod before following the procession into the bowels of the massive ship.

*

'The tanks have been completed and the Machine Spirits are now ready for their first taste of war,' Arten said, gesturing to the hololith that dominated the command deck of the ship showing a massive tank that had a rotating colossal cannon on its top, 'though it has taken a while, the designs of the Harbinger class tanks have been perfected and are now ready for production, meanwhile the prototypes are ready for your disposal.'

'Excellent,' Mikhail replied, 'could you go over the armaments and defences again? A century and a half of blood and toil has made my memories about this covert project dim.'

'Of course lord,' the Magos replied before changing the view on the tank so that it focus on the weapons, 'the hull is made of an adamantium-ceramite composite so that, even if its Imperator class void shields fail, it won't be completely helpless. As for the weapons, the most obvious weapon is the modified plasma cannon that has a similar power output to an orbital bombardment cannon on this ship. It also has four, twin-linked assault cannons on the sides as well as the front and back of the tank and an arsenal of missiles that can be preloaded, but for now they have been loaded with hellfire missiles and kraken rounds.'

'How long will it take for deployment?'

'They have special drop pods already designed for it that will fit in Astartes battlebarges; they can be deployed within two hours. As well as this force, the Titan Legion Legios Mortis will be sent down to aid you in your plight.'

'I am grateful for your support and the strength of our alliance, techpriest.'

'Do not thank me, young Alexandro here reminded me of our sacred oath when he fought with the fervour of the Emperor's finest to defend the manufactorium.'

Alexandro felt the Chapter Master's gaze turn upon him. 'If that is true the Chapter owes you a great debt,' Mikhail said smiling, 'a member of the Chapter for less than a few months and already telling tales worth telling in the halls of the Fang in Fenris.'

The meeting went on for another hour, where tactics of the tanks were discussed with matters such as where they would be most effective, before drawing to a close. As the Mechanicus retinue turned to leave, Magos Arten whispered something to the Chapter Master in private, the Chapter Master nodded to show that he had accepted the Arten's silent offer.

Arten turned to Alexandro and beckoned him over. 'Come,' he grated through his speakers, 'I need an Astartes to come over and inspect the tanks before they go to war.'

Alexandro was wary but nodded anyways. He followed the techpriest through the maze of corridors back to the hangar, boarded the shuttle before spending ten minutes journeying between the massive sixteen kilometre long battlebarge and the Mechanicus ship that hung in space seven hundred kilometres away. The rust-red ship that led the armada of reinforcements was about the size of a regular grand cruiser and was sparse in decoration, its only heraldry being the skull and cog symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

The interior of the ship was just as bland as the outside, with gunmetal grey everywhere, giving the vessel a clean and functional appearance. Alexandro was quickly led from the hangar bay deep into the bowels of the ship to another unknown location.

*

They emerged in the massive drop bay of the ship where silhouettes of massive vessels lay under massive sheets of cloth beside the hulking forms of the Titan Legion. Alexandro gazed up in wonder at the towering Imperator Titan that rose fifty metres off the floor of the massive room, his eyes going down every curve and corner of the war machine, from the great Vulcan cannon on its right arm to the massive fortress that was placed on its hunched back.

The Magos was beside him. 'Witness the unveiling of the Harbingers,' he said proudly. The swathes of cloth came off the behemoths and Alexandro felt his body tingle with awe, it was one thing to see in on paper – or on hololith in this case – but it was a something else entirely to see it in its splendour up close. The armaments of the tank bristled with lethal menace but the plasma cannon on its top dwarfed them all in majesty and such lethal potential, Alexandro's hearts sang to see such a beautiful art of war.

'It is a rare sight to see one of the Emperor's finest so stunned,' the Magos said, 'but I had the same feeling when the last weapon on this tank was loaded, I thought that I left all of my emotions behind on the road to the Machine God but it seems that one cannot completely get rid of awe.'

Alexandro could only nod, basking in the glow of the plasma reactors coming to life, the battalion of tanks began to hum with life as well as the Titan Legion.

'They are ready to bring the Emperor's wrath on the orks, young Alexandro,' continued Arten, 'for the Emperor.'

'For the Machine God,' Alexandro replied.

'Speaking of presents to the Chapter, I have something else for you, Marine, follow me.'

They walked across the massive room, past the massive machines of war, to the other end of the hall. The room that they were entering was guarded by a massive door that required a code in binary to open, once past that and all the techpriests shuffling around with pieces of metal, they reached the inner sanctum of the ship, dominated by a massive sarcophagus.

Alexandro was confused when a techpriest came over to him and took measurements of his new body. He just stood still as the priest measured his height, his span and his limbs amongst other things. The techpriest finally nodded, satisfied with the results before walking up to the Magos to present the results.

He bowed humbly. 'The Astartes is bigger than we thought he would be but our knowledge of their methods got us within five centimetres of his actual height,' the techpriest said in a low burr, 'it will be a tight fit lord, but it will nonetheless fit.'

Alexandro's curiosity overcame him. 'What is this all about Magos?'

'Ah,' the Magos replied, 'all in due time, just follow along.'

Alexandro just nodded respectfully, his question unanswered, and began an arduous string of rituals that involved him being anointed in oils and barraged with prayers in binary. This went on for half an hour until he was drenched and numb.

He was finally led towards the massive sarcophagus by the techpriests beckoning him onwards with the lamps full of frankincense, filling the air with fumes suggesting that the ritual was reaching its climax, Alexandro didn't know if he was going to like the end.

'Behold,' came the voice of Magos Arten from behind him, 'my greatest works, my personal artificers and myself toiled on this Machine Spirit for months without end, leaving the lowly members of the manufactorium to work on the tanks.'

The sarcophagus was clicked open by a chant and fumes were expelled from the interior, clouding Alexandro in a thick fog for a moment before he saw what was inside.

He gasped.

He was looking at a suit of armour of unparalleled beauty cut like that of normal Astartes armour but with the power of Terminator armour, already painted in the colours of his Chapter, with the name _Brother Alexandro_ written in High Gothic calligraphy on the collar. The helmet had a different shape, reminiscent of the helmets used in the Great Crusade and ones worn by the Grey Knights chapter. His eyes were drawn to the skull on the left pauldron and whispered. 'The Crux Terminatus.'

The symbol only granted to veterans or heroes of the chapter had been bestowed on him, granted by the Chapter Master himself so this had to be legitimate, he had been accepted into the esteemed First Company a few months after his induction into the Chapter.

He was dimly aware of the Magos talking behind him. 'This is my debt to you repaid Alexandro, an Artificers Errant Terminator Armour, the only one of its kind. You should now wear this suit and make planet fall on the orks below.'

The techpriests gathered around him and began disassembling the massive suit before building it from feet up around Alexandro. He soon realised why they used that method, for once it got to his waist; the weight of the armour was bearing down on him and straining his muscles. Once the final piece, the helmet, was placed on him did they turn on the massive reactors of the suit. The weight immediately disappeared and he felt stronger than before, the servos and fibre bundles within the suit increasing his already formidable strength fivefold, and the black carapace made him feel through the suit, as if the ceramite became is second skin. The helmet buzzed with static for a second before information came flooding into the visor, ammunition readings, vital signs, squad activity – this being empty since he hadn't been interfaced with a squad yet – and target finders.

Alexandro activated his power fists with a thought and watched his hands crackle into deadly life and saw hidden claws erupt from the knuckles that protruded a metre outwards, alive with the same arcane energies. He then noticed a gauntlet mounted storm bolter on each hand that lay empty for the time being. He sheathed his lightning claws and took a few steps forward, out of the cramped sarcophagus and back to the sanctum to the awaiting Magos.

Arten had to crane his neck upwards to see the head of Alexandro, as the suit of armour added an extra three feet to his total height. 'Are you pleased, Marine?' he asked.

'More than pleased Magos,' came the deep reply through the vox of the helmet, 'I feel so alive, this suit obeys my wishes in an instant, such power...'

'It is good to see that all my efforts are greatly appreciated, that makes the past few months worthwhile. It is time for you to assault the orks below, but before you do, you will need to equip yourself for the coming battles.'

They strode to the armoury of the sanctum where relics lay in their hallowed home. Alexandro marvelled at the engineering of each individual weapon, crafted to perfection by men who had devoted centuries to this art of war, before picking a highly decorated assault cannon. But instead of giving up his lightning claw and strapping the massive weapon onto one of his arms, they attached the cannon onto his back as Arten explained.

'Using an STC from the Dark Ages, we were able to forge a system that allows you to use a ranged weapon from your back without the loss of your arm weapons.'

Alexandro on his HUD noticed the readings of the assault cannon on his back and controlled it as he would with one of his limbs. He mentally pulled the trigger and the barrels began to spin, but without any ammunition it was safe, he experimented with a few spins and rotations with the barrels whirring away.

He smiled. 'This isn't what the Mechanicus I thought I knew would do, aren't they against this sort of innovation?'

'We aren't the conventional Mechanicus,' Arten replied, 'we embrace change as well as recovering lost relics from the past, we don't only use reverse engineering as the source of our technology.'

'That should have gotten you in trouble in the past.'

'Indeed it has, but that's a story for another time, right now it is time for war.'

Alexandro nodded. 'Agreed, but how will I get down to the surface? There are no drop pods for me.'

Arten sighed. 'Terminators don't use drop pods, they use another technology from the past; teleportation.'

*

The teleportation chamber of the Mechanicus vessel rang loudly as Alexandro prepared for battle. He was not alone in the teleporter, three squads of skitarii checked their wargear beside him, muttering to one another in low but clipped voices, few had their hands clasped and their heads bowed in prayer. Techpriests surrounded the massive device, adjusting the massive cables, power couplers and the electromagnetic fields that invisibly laced the machine. Once they were satisfied, they activated the machine. The air was immediately filled with an unearthly hum that sank into Alexandro's bones.

'Form up men,' Alexandro called out, unsheathing his lightning claws in preparation for battle, 'launch in twenty seconds.'

Arten's voice pierced through the growing din. 'You will drop into the midst of an ambush that had been placed by the orks on a decisive location to aid the Imperials and bring them out of it, you will be fighting alongside your fellow Marines as well as the Guard. Take care Alexandro, I wouldn't want my armour to be lost so fast.'

'Oh I won't Magos.' Alexandro grinned.

Lasguns were primed. Power weapons crackled. Bolt weapons had fresh ammo slammed into their empty magazines, and the teleporter activated in a flash of light.

*

In that instant, for a single heartbeat, they were at the mercy of the warp. And it was over, for the reinforcements found them within a massive battle where a tide of green was all that he could see. Thousands of orks swarmed up against just a few hundred Imperials, but the hulking forms of Space Marines in their midst made all difference. Alexandro immediately started up his assault cannon that shredded a mass of orks in a deadly arc as well as opening fire with his storm bolters, it wouldn't have been so bad if not for the thirty-six skitarii that let loose hell on the orks with their heavy weaponry.

Cries came from the battered guardsmen as they saw the form of Alexandro and the havoc that he was wreaking in the ork ranks, and those cries of hope gave Alexandro strength, he was fighting for Mankind in the name of the Emperor, and these orks wanted nothing more than to see His great plans fall to destruction. There were too many orks, their infantry and armour were many, they would lose unnecessary lives driving them back. He would have to use the power within him once more, for without it the Imperials would soon be swamped by greenskin flesh despite the heroic Marines leading them.

He channelled warp energy through his body before letting it loose into reality. Tendrils of psych rushed from him and into the ork force before him, enveloping the hapless orks and their vehicles in under a second. Bringing an open palm up to chest level, he drew satisfaction from their faces full of fear before closing his fist. The effects were devastating...for the orks, bodies were instantly destroyed, and their war machines turned into flaming wreckages though there wasn't much to destroy in them anyways. At once the battlefield was silent as the Imperials paused in awe to see what remained of the ork force, the guardsmen just stared slack-jawed at the carnage whilst even the Space Marines looked up to Alexandro in confusion. The only force that didn't show any reaction were the skitarii that had accompanied him who looked as blank as ever, emotional repressive surgery that they all had undergone took away feelings such as trauma and awe. Even Alexandro paused, the devastation had been wrought by him was immense, and without proper control he would have done that to the Imperials too. He turned to look to his fist before surveying the silent battlefield as lights began to appear in the sky.


	10. Chapter 8: Greenskins

24/01/2010 06:42:00

Okay, this is the chapter where I will actually begin to reply to the feedback given to me instead of posting it on my profile, which I don't think is where many of you readers go to.

Lawrence96: It was something that I was bound to fall into as why write about just an ordinary Space Marine, I know it isn't a fair fight to all those orks but think about it; there is no such thing as a fair fight, one side is always luckier, better equipped, better numerically etc. I'm just giving Alexandro a unique ability; I guess that I might have to 'nerf' his powers down (so to speak) to make it more believable, how I will achieve it will be revealed later (if I even do it at all).

Mattrocks: Thank you for the feedback, it was a wakeup call that hastily made me re-think my options. I'm undergoing the process of revamping my current chapters (they will be posted up in the next month or so). Glad to know that people enjoy this story.

Jarrick32: Hi there. I don't think that I've made Alexandro's recovery very clear, I'll have to edit that nothingness part once I have time, and the full details as to how much Alexandro has changed ("more than just geneseed" as quoted by Apothecary Asclepius) will be revealed later on in the book. Since this reply is quite late, you already know that he's survived and is now stomping around in massive Artificers armour. And to your earlier review, yes this Chapter is keeping their members safe, especially from those in the Inquisition.

Salience: Yes your question is similar to that of Lawrence so I'll be brief; looks like our protagonist might have to get a little sick again. And yeah, this Chapter has an entire Forge World to do its bidding so don't be surprised if Harbinger-class super battle-tanks and Titan Legions aren't the only things you see at its disposal.

Someone101: Hello, nice to know that I have an almost fanatical devotion to the storyline from you, I will keep on surprising you, be sure of that.

MattyGG**: **Thanks a lot

Guys, keep the reviews coming, and I'll need an intro quote into every chapter as I'm beginning to run out of them, put a quote you think will be effective at the bottom of your reviews! Thanks!

**Chapter 8**

"Sometimes it all comes down to a gun and a handful of faith."

- Veteran Sergeant Octavius of the Sagittarians Chapter

*

The sound of the huge shadow entering the atmosphere made everything pause to watch. It dropped down to the horizon tens of kilometres away, on pillars of retro-rocket fire before, colliding with the force of a bomb. A massive cylinder was standing upright amidst a cloud of steam that spurted from multiple joints and seals, surrounded by a shoal of smaller Space Marine drop-pods had already set down, silent having already unleashed its deadly cargo. It was easily the size of a hangar bay, with its guidance fins glowing red hot from the heat of re-entry. A moan of stressed metal ensued as the sides of the cylinder dropped away to reveal vapour that hid the only occupant of the gargantuan drop-pod. A booming war-horn echoed through the plains as a massive shape emerged from the fog; striding out like a god of war, bristling with big guns and heavy armour. With steps like thunderclaps the massive Imperator-class Titan, an immense machine sixty metres in height, strode amongst the Astartes to bring death to the enemy.

*

Patroclus stared grimly across the flat grassland illuminated by the planet's moon to where a greenskin force had made a fortified encampment, about a mile away, from the cover of an oasis. He looked to his left and right to see the rest of Squad Patroclus – a temporary scout squad made up of half of the newest additions to the Chapter, currently bound to the Second Company, with Patroclus himself leading it – and affectionately regarded his battle-brothers who he had been blooded with for the past few months. Cletus, always the zealous and hotheaded one. Rhode, quiet, pragmatic and usually found tending their wargear. Sam, his exuberance and youth being the glue that bonded them together. A perfect mix of personalities; something that helped them from the beginning to rise triumphant where others had failed. But in recent weeks that delicate balance had been destabilised with the absence of Alexandro, he deserved to be the leader of this squad. Though Patroclus knew that he wasn't incompetent in leading the squad, he knew that his honour-brother – always the idealist – would have succeeded where he had failed. He occasionally looked to the bronze chevron on his left vambrace and smiled at the turn of events, he felt as if the symbol belonged to someone else.

His nostalgic train of thought brought back unbidden memories that made him shiver, like the failed defence of Verona a mere week before where a slip in his concentration had led to an opening in the lines that the orks were only too happy to oblige in filling. Dozens of brave souls had died under his command that day, trying to stem the flow of orks into the city, souls that could have been saved. Patroclus, horrified at what a simple mistake had done, spent two days fasting over what had happened, beseeching the Emperor to forgive him for what he had done. He emerged from the experience a changed man, whereas before he thought that the death of a good Imperial servant was a waste, he now knew that it was a necessary loss that was needed to keep the Imperium running.

He shifted in his bulky carapace armour uncomfortably, the thin plates of ceramite scraping against each other, before raising the binoculars to his augmented eyes and surveying the ramshackle defences. This was no technologically advanced enemy, crude walls made of stakes were all that made the outer defences, but it was what inhabited the inside that made this foe as dangerous as the fickle Eldar; unmatched brutality and sheer, animalistic strength. Since they had no artillery support, they would have to go in and fight the orks face-to-face, a way of war that both the Space Marines and the Orks excelled at, it would be a fight where upper body strength would decide the victor.

Clamping the binoculars to his waist he drew his bolter from its holster, the other members of the squad mirroring his move, and turned to face the three hundred commandos that had joined his squad in the hunt. Normal guardsmen wouldn't have stood a chance in the battle ahead, serving only as a distraction, but these elite of the Chiron Regiments was up to the task ahead.

_'Bring up the plasma guns and heavy bolters,'_ he hand-signalled to the commando captain, using the ancient battle-language developed in the Unification Wars as their general vox had a chance of being overheard by the enemy, who briskly nodded before sending out the orders. Within minutes the assembled heavy weapons were brought to play as they began advancing under the cover of darkness.

Ten tense minutes were spent trudging across the muddied fields, the men watching the vapour in their breath freezing in front of them and constantly cleaning the muzzle of their lasguns, before they were within firing range of the ork fort. Ork sentries patrolling the defences might as well have been blind and deaf, distracted by the yelling and gunfire coming from the inside. Patroclus signalled for the heavy weapons team to climb up an abandoned watchtower accompanied by a squad of snipers, a few minutes of hauling later they raised their hands to signal readiness, and the Space Marine mirrored that gesture. Patroclus put on his helmet and checked his squads' vitals signs on his HUD. Once he was sure that everything was just right, he brought down his hand and all hell broke loose.

The jubilant cries turned into howls of agony as four heavy bolters opened fire, accompanied by the Space Marines' own weapons, the shells tearing into ork flesh before detonating into miniature fireballs. Balls of superheated gases whizzed from the plasma guns that began to glow cherry red with the heat of storing such unnatural forces – the telltale signs of overheating – orks clutched their faces as, without any glare protection like the Imperials had, the images of the flying plasma burned their way into the retinas of the enemy.

'Ride swiftly brothers, in the name of the Emperor!' Patroclus heard Cletus yell as he pressed the activation stud on his chainsword, his words then drowned out by the massive blade spinning into life as the massive Marine dove forward into the fray. Sam had climbed up to the top of the watchtower and began felling orks with precise double-taps from his Artificers bolter, gifted to him by the Chapter after pulling off the heroic deed of holding off forty cultists single-handedly, raining hot death upon the foul greenskins from afar. Rhode hefted his flamer and pulled the trigger, dousing any ork in the vicinity with burning promethium, latching onto flesh and reducing the masses of muscle and bone into ash.

A deep war cry came from behind him. Instantly ready, his armour flooding his already hormone-rich blood with additional adrenaline that made his reflexes as swift as death, he turned to see an ork charging at him with a massive two-handed axe raised above its hairless head. He deftly turned away at the last moment, using his opponent's cumbersome weapon against it, before breaking the passing greenskin's neck with a backhanded blow. The impact jarred his minimally protected hand for an instant, the scout carapace armour not covering the hands in the tough ceramite found in an Astartes' suit, Patroclus grimaced before taking out his weapon; a beautifully crafted mace given to him by Scion Vanir of House Finn after saving the nobleman's life at the cost of fifty men. Raising the heavy but delicately balanced weapon above him with a chant on his lips, he ran into the tangle of orks and brought it down on the first one he saw.

*

Mekboy Dugalnor watched from a distant ridge as the massive figures of the Marines striding across the camp like gods of war, killing orks at a whim with their massive swords and guns. A man would have run at the sight of such carnage, but Dugalnor was no man, he was an ork, and orks would throw themselves where the fighting was thickest.

A red flare flew up in the air, the ambush was set, a howl that echoed in a thousand throats led the charge. Dugalnor stayed back, letting the waves of cannon fodder rush past him, where they were hardwired to run into combat and into melee, he was more suited to firing heavy shells from afar. He smiled through cracked teeth as he hefted his customised plasma gun, aiming the patchwork weapon towards one of the bulky figures, cackling madly as he pulled the greasy trigger.

*

Patroclus was blinded by a wave of heat and light that hit his left arm at the shoulder, incinerating the limb as it was subjected to the heat of a star. His HUD display was filled with static and so was his mind, the pain that he was subjected to paralysed him for an instant until his hypnotherapy kicked in, blocking out the trauma that would incapacitate him and forcing him to move into cover. His armour reacted an instant later, pumping a massive amount of sedatives and increasing his already superhuman healing factor, easing the pain by a notch and allowing him to think clearly. All this had happened in less than a second, so fast that it was over before he could open his mouth to scream.

He turned to see a wave of orks running towards them from the rear, despair rose up for an instant before he quashed it down into the recesses of his mind, he would know no fear today, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The Intel had been wrong, the orks did know that they were coming, and there was something else; someone with brains was leading them, for it was unorthodox for an ork to ambush when all they wanted was a good close-up fight.

Patroclus tried to reach for his bolter before feeling an awkward sensation and looking at the charred remains of his bolter-arm that greeted his eyes. His arm had been cauterised at the shoulder, leaving a burnt and tangy smell in the air, the heat of the wound had sealed off the vessels, stopping any unnecessary bleeding. He looked over the short wall that he had dove at to see an ork, holding a plasma gun that glowed red at the muzzle, laughing wildly as it aimed for another Marine.

Righteous anger filled him as the prospect of a mere ork felling a Marine got to him, he would not give it the satisfaction. He holstered his hammer, covered in ork viscera, before taking his bolter in his right hand before standing up in full view of the enemy, smiling behind his helmet at the look of shock that passed over the ork's face, before raising his arm up and pulling the trigger, the putrid head was replaced by a swaying neck as the headless body toppled to the ground.

A sense of calm enveloped him as he looked over to the enemy, outnumbering them at least twenty-to-one, they were all going to die here, the realisation was sudden and yet calming, a world away from the fears that he had left behind as a boy not too long ago. They still had a duty to the Emperor, the duty to fight. He looked to his squad and saw his eyes in their faces, they would fight this enemy till their dying breath as Space Marines, despite their short time in the Chapter.

A column of fire erupted from the ground a dozen metres away from him, throwing shredded orks into the air and tingeing it with red mist, before multiple blocky crafts with twisting entrails in its wake passed overhead.

'What are they?' asked a surviving commando lieutenant warily.

'Thunderhawks,' Patroclus replied quietly, smiling behind his mask.

*

The cohesion that the orks had fell quickly in the face of the relief force that made planet fall, those who had decided not to run now lying dead on the now saturated plains. An apothecary immediately put Patroclus and the other injured Marines, their wounds ranging from minor scrapes to massive internal damage that would require days to recover, under his care; the future of the Chapter too important to ignore. He now lay in the makeshift medicae within a Thunderhawk feeling stronger with every passing moment, his arm had been deemed a lost cause and a bionic replacement was well underway, he would be able to leave in a couple of hours. He had spent the rest of the night talking away with his squad mates, who constantly glanced at the remains of his left arm, on what they did in the battle.

'I saw that shot you made on the _kine_ who took off your arm,' Sam said whilst pointedly looking at Patroclus's stump, using the derogatory term for orks made by their Crimson Fists brethren, 'you made a mess of its head, I could have made it cleaner.'

'You try aiming a weapon that well with your sword arm,' Patroclus shot back before coughing and swiftly massaging his charred throat, 'where were you anyways? You should have been covering my back.'

Sam grinned sheepishly, 'Sorry, I was helping Rhode over here, saved his neck from those elite orks when he was too busy dispatching a simple _gretchin_,' before reaching over his bed and mock-punching his battle-brother on the arm.

A dark shadow suddenly appeared at the ramp of the vessel and the conversation died away. Though he was certain that no enemy could have passed the defensive lines around the area, he tensed himself for a fight. He was greeted by the sight of a massive Marine encased in an ornate piece of blue-black power armour lined with silver, cut like that of the bulky Terminator armour but worn like of normal Astartes plate, its every line and curve suggesting that it was as deadly as it was beautiful. But it was what was inside that made him shiver, an immense mind, somewhat familiar, pressed against his, the strength power was gargantuan and would have crushed them all if it wasn't kept in check by an immense reserve of willpower and fortitude dedicated to none other than the Master of Mankind. Though this Astartes was obviously a psyker, he didn't wear the protective psychic hood that shielded librarians from ethereal assaults and possession.

'What brings a noble Terminator of the First within our midst?' he croaked, awestruck.

The Marine laughed, the lightning claws on his gauntlets catching the dim light and glowing with lethal power. 'Do you not recognise me Brother Patroclus or the rest of you? Have I changed so much?'

The voice was resonant and calm yet it had a familiarity to it, as if he had talked to this mysterious Marine before, the pitch, the almost perfect High Gothic with the undertone of Chiron Beta hive-city speak, the confidence and the oh-so-angelic charisma. Something clicked.

'Alexandro...what the hell have you been up to lately?'

Alexandro lifted the knightly helmet to reveal a grinning face with shocking blue eyes that radiated a cold light. 'Its about damn time.'

*

'So let me get this straight,' Rhode said, interrupting Alexandro's recount of recent events, 'you're saying that I'm looking at the most powerful psyker ever fielded by this Chapter?'

'I never said that,' Alexandro groaned is his low voice, his eyes smoking with eldritch fire, 'all I said was that they categorised me as an Alpha-Plus psyker.'

'And how many of those do you find in a Chapter let alone within humanity?' Rhode asked sarcastically, 'listen brother, what I want to know is why you didn't tell us about your little problem.'

'I tried, brother, it's just that, not only was I unsure of it myself, I was also unsure of the reaction that you would have if you found out that I was a psyker.'

Sam suddenly broke the short silence that followed; he found the strength to get off his bed and heartily slap Alexandro on the shoulder. 'Brother this isn't the Great Crusade where we would have grabbed for our pitchforks and torches, our proud Chapter has had the luck of having multiple gifted individuals pass through its history, all of them just as noble a warrior as the next Astartes in line, take Lord Lepidus for instance who died fighting the forces of Chaos.'

Alexandro smiled, quietly relieved at their nonchalance towards his change, they were probably more concerned at the disfigurement that Patroclus had received. 'Since when have you been the master of words little Sam?' he asked, clapping his hand on the smaller Astartes' back, forcing him to stumble slightly. 'So you've been reading a few books whilst I was away.'

'I see your wit hasn't changed in your absence Brother.'

Alexandro grinned, 'Nor has your spirit, its good to be back.'

*

After four hours of REM, the Astartes woke up from their dreamless sleep, fully awake in an instant. Cletus led the morning prayers in the interior of Thunderhawk II, whispering rites older than the Ecclesiarchy as massive figures behind him knelt in supplication. Alexandro didn't feel the need to join them, feeling that such devotion was unnecessary as he considered himself more than loyal enough to be involved with the task at hand, and thus watched in silent vigil from the shadows of the makeshift chapel. His eyes pulsed with arcane energies under his helmet as he contemplated the fate of humanity and his place in the grand designs of the Emperor.

He remembered the horrifying visions that he had witnessed whilst under the possession of the Greater Daemon and grimaced, the unspeakable horrors that threatened to drown the Imperium in its own blood, something had to be done. Humanity wasn't prepared yet, the psychic population needed a few more millennia to develop into their full potential as the master race, but that was time that they currently did not have, a solution had to be found within the next two thousand years for that was how long the Imperium had left, the clock was ticking.

Just as one of the first astronauts from Merica of Old Terra went delusional after seeing the planet below from orbit as he finally began to grasp the scope of infinity, Alexandro considered the vast space that the Imperium occupied, the result of one man's vision ten thousand years ago, and how humanity, as numerous as they were, occupied just a blip in the universe. It would be nothing in universal affairs.

The ideals of the Great Crusade had been lost after the integration of the Emperor to the Golden Throne, replaced by the fledgling cult that grew to become the present-day Ecclesiarchy, and it had to be embraced once again by the commoners of the Imperium. The insect alien had been right in saying that humanity would have no hope in staying the way it was. A crusade would have to be called, not like the zealous holy crusade manned by the Black Templars but an immense undertaking even larger than the ones that the Warmasters underwent, a crusade where warriors would lead, spreading the words of science, bringing them back to the time when demigods walked amongst men.

His thoughts were cut short as Cletus finished the Hymn of Atonement, standing up slowly and reverently closing the tome in his hands. Alexandro then led the procession out of the Thunderhawk towards the command tent where Captain Nero of the Fourth Company debated with the weary Imperial commanders on the right course of action to deal with the many orks before them. The force was small, numbering only twenty Marines – mostly new initiates to the Chapter like himself with a few Sternguard Veterans – and the hundred or so stormtroopers who had managed to survive the ambush, to be joined by the Pandoran Fifth Grenadiers Battalion.

'Ah,' the Captain said without looking around, 'it seems that Squad Patroclus and the young Librarian have arrived early.'

'Always ready to serve sir,' Alexandro replied crisply, saluting, 'what seems to be the problem?'

Nero turned with a smile on his face, 'At ease Marines, just explaining to Lieutenant Kara how we could use our small force best against the enemy.'

'Then how could we be of service sir?' Sam interjected.

'By analysing the terrain on the hololith for one,' Nero said, gesturing with his gauntlet at the table in front of him.

'How many orks are left in the area Captain?' Alexandro asked whilst Patroclus observed the map.

'In this sector? Probably several thousand, but we won't meet any greenskins for a few kilometres, but for now, our Chapter Master has commanded that we do a bit of reconnaissance in locating the base where the local warboss is most likely to be in. Satellite feedback shows ten possible bases, spread out across a hundred square-kilometres of dense forest, but it can't tell us anything else apart from the number of orks in each base.'

'Then strike for the one with the most green in it,' Cletus said bluntly, 'that's where the leader is bound to be; surrounded by a gaggle of cannon fodder.'

'No,' Alexandro replied, shaking his head, 'they have a leader who knows what he's doing, striking at the most concentrated zone would be exactly what he would want us to do, he wants us to get bogged down by the slaves whilst he either ambushes us from behind or goes off to find a military target to strike at, thus making our relief efforts considerably more difficult. Besides, my senses tell me that he's in this camp,' pointing at a particular zone of green, 'it has the perfect positioning to do either of these things.'

'Ah I see that our Brother is using that mind of his,' Captain Nero said, 'you scouts should learn a thing or two from him, I agree with you Librarian, the ork's method of fighting so far have been unorthodox from the usual, I say we strike at that camp with the forces we have in the speartip move.'

'We do not have the numbers here Captain,' said Rhode, 'it's a risky venture, twenty Battle-Brothers and a few hundred Guardsmen against thousands of orks head-to-head is not what I had imagined.'

'We are Sagittarians; forged in the anvils of war and moulded to the Emperor's image,' the Captain replied tersely, 'though there are more on their side, there will be more fighting on ours, do you understand scout?'

'Yes sir.'

'Besides, we have a weapon that will turn the tables against the orks' he said before turning to Alexandro, 'we will need your abilities by the end of today if we are to have a chance in winning this fight.'

Alexandro nodded, 'my powers are at your disposal.'

'Very well, we move out as soon as the Guard commanders kick their boys out of bed, this meeting is dismissed, it is time for war.'

*

Alexandro was a giant. The looks that he had received from the Grenadiers as he strode to the APC Rhinos before they had rubbed their Aquila figurines was discomforting, it reminded him of how far he had come to serve the Emperor, how he had sacrificed his humanity for Mankind. But, as he reflected on his decision multiple times before, he would not regret it, he was a warrior at heart and this physical embodiment of war was all he could ever wish for. He was still getting used to looking down on everyone, even though he was tall as a non-Astartes it would take a while to look on the Guard who were now half his height in full power-armor.

It would have been bearable for the men if it weren't for the chilling mist that poured out of the orbs that were his eyes; he heard their whispers of superstition when they thought he was out of earshot. They feared him, no amount of coaxing would snuff the millennia of ingrained-prejudice against psykers that the Emperor-fearing folk had, and Alexandro was doubtful of utilizing that fear to achieve his aims.

'Sir?' came a strangled and muffled voice from below, 'General Anthony is looking for you.'

Alexandro looked down to see a terrified file trooper shaking as she held a standard grenade launcher across her chest with her friends peering at them from the safety of a pile of ammo crates. 'Your message has been acknowledged trooper,' he replied with a smile that only served to frighten her even more, 'though I think that my vox systems are well equipped for receiving transmissions from the command bunker.'

'Ah…' she trailed off, clutching the crude weapon even tighter, 'well it has been a pleasure meeting you sir…'

'Don't call me sir trooper, I'm simply a novice just like you, younger than you in years I might add.'

The grenadier took this bit of information with a bit of shock, her expression changing rapidly between awe and fear as she finally looked up to meet his eyes.

'Then what should I call you?' she said, more composed.

'Brother Alexandro would be a good start,' he grinned, mirrored uncertainly in the woman's face as she deliberated whether he was just pulling her leg, 'and I'm not kidding.'

'You can read my thoughts?' she gasped, peering deeper into his eyes as if trying to glean something from the fell-orbs.

'It doesn't take a mind-reader to guess what you are thinking…_though I can_' he thought, 'now I'll be off, I don't think that General Anthony likes to be kept waiting…oh and what is your name?'

'Siobhan, why…Alexandro?'

'Oh just that you were the first Guardsman to talk to me, I'll see you in battle soon enough Siobhan.'

Siobhan saluted. 'It will be my honor fighting beside the Emperor's finest.'

'And it will be mine fighting next to an unsung hero whose actions decide the fate of the Imperium every single day. Now off with you, it seems like you have quite a tale to give to your friends.'

Those within earshot of the discussion suddenly stood up straighter or loaded faster as they heard the praise that the Space Marine had given to them. Siobhan merely nodded and turned before walking proudly back to her associates.

Opening a beeping icon on his vox with a thought, he asked 'Commander?'

'Ah Marine,' came an low yet unsteady voice, full of youth, that suggested that this was a man not born to lead but one born into a world of politics, 'you were right, the warboss has been spotted by scouts in the area that you've pinpointed.'

'And soon it will be dead, its head will be given as a trophy to you so that all will know that the Fifth Grenadiers Regiment are a force to be reckoned with. What else is there sir?'

'Oh, yes, just wondering if your men are alright.'

'Let me check,' Alexandro said sarcastically before clamping his helmet firmly over his head, hearing the _hiss _of decompression as the seal was locked, to see several green lights flashing on his HUD, 'no misfortune seems to have befallen my Brothers in the past few minutes since I've last seen them, is that all sir?'

'No, that is all,' the general said nervously.

'Then I shall see you in battle General, for the Emperor.'

Alexandro shook his head as he cut off the connection, the commanding hierarchy would need a change once this campaign was over, the Imperium could not afford to have its soldiers led by those who had never known the kiss of war. He walked past his veteran Battle-Brothers who were helping the Guard's cranes in loading the crates of Dragonfire bolts, a round perfectly suited for fighting enemies in dense cover, into the Rhinos, they all made the Aquila sign when he walked past; a gesture that was returned. He walked over to Rhino Three to where his squad had just finished loading the last of the ammo crates into their APC.

'Who's driving?' he asked when he got to the vehicle.

It was Patroclus who answered, 'That would be Rhode of course,' pointing to the Marine at the front testing the specs of the massive machine.

'Ah, the wannabe Techmarine,' he smiled, 'I wouldn't trust anyone else for such a task, especially Sam who would probably drive us into the first ditch outside the camp.'

This comment brought smirks and laughs from the rest of the squad who then gathered around him.

'Hey,' said Sam, acting hurt, 'why do you always pick on me? I thought we were all past that.'

'Because old habits die hard Brother, now who's ready to kill some greenskins?' he roared, unsheathing his lightning claws for effect, with arcane energies now arcing across its impossibly sharp edge.'

This brought a chorus of 'we are' from the Marines and the Guardsmen around him. The magnitude of the response that came from around him shocked him into silence for a moment before he found his voice again.

'We fight in the name of He who lies on Terra, for the Emperor!' he yelled, it didn't take long for every man and woman in the camp to pick up the chant that echoed for miles around.

They would bring the fight to the orks and annihilate them on this day. Alexandro smiled behind his helm.


	11. Chapter 9: An Ancient Enemy

16/05/2010 08:12:00

Okay, after reading the reviews for Chapter Eight I do realize that I still have quite a long way to go. Be mindful that this is only a draft (it will be edited by the summer; hopefully finishing the 200-300k words by the end of August) and that mistakes are bound to occur. And sorry for not uploading as many chapters as I would have liked (1 instead of 3) as my teachers seem to enjoy the thought of their students having no free time over the holidays.

Sorry for being occupied for the past few months, the promise that I made in uploading a chapter every couple of weeks has failed miserably. And five thousand words after three months is bad to say the least. Since the exams are done and with summer holidays around the corner, I will be able to post more frequently I promise you guys…again…

Oh and I'm about one thousand words into Chapter Ten, showing you the newfound commitment I have in writing this, all these ideas that were in my head are finally finding its place on virtual paper. I've decided to limit a chapter to about five to six thousand words giving the time limit that I will place upon myself and taking my workload into account (sorry for all of you who want mega long chapters but I am no Space Marine)

And back to my awesome, awesome critics and fans.

Salience: Finally, a quote that I can use without wasting hours of time pondering on the next line. Thanks a lot it will be used in this chapter, as you will see.

Vain-Kn1ght: Sorry. That is all I can say, this chapter was finished at about 1 in the morning (editing and all) and I thought that I'd gotten rid of that error…my bad. Thanks for the constructive criticism, I will incorporate your suggestion in this latest chapter, please inform me if it doesn't work out in any way.

Whateverokayy: Thanks a lot, yes I do know who you are, blatantly obvious from the first line. If the vocabulary is troubling you then you should go read a dictionary or guess the meaning…joking yeah I'll use more common words then (as I tend to make errors grammatically when applying those 'bigger' words) muy apreciado.

Keep the reviews coming. And as for quotes, make it sound smart and make it original (a very effective one from Salience I must say, thanks a million buddy)

**Chapter 9**

"There are no weak soldiers under a valiant commander."

- Commander Eckhart of the 42nd Pandoran Regiment

Alexandro walked amidst the dead, kicking aside debris and bodies as he made his way through what used to be the ork stronghold. It had been a good fight, won by the Imperium, but at a terrible price; more than half of the Guardsmen were now strewn amongst the sea of green that the psyker now stood in.

And the Astartes themselves, as mighty as they were, did not come out completely unscathed. Sam now lay in the Red Dream after an ork psyker or 'weird boy' exploded, after overdosing on Waagh, mere inches away from the embattled Sagittarian, the concussive blast generated by the collective psych of thousands of orks was too much for even his superhuman physiognomy to handle.

And Rhode was missing. His vital signs had suddenly disappeared in the confusion after their target was taken out, the carapace armor of the scouts having less reliable auxiliary systems than the ones Alexandro had in his suit.

They had gone for the speartip maneuver, a tactic employed widely in the Great Crusade and his Chapter involving a quick strike to the hierarchy of the enemy; tearing its throat out and leaving the body thrashing in its death throes. It was the only way they had a chance in stopping this inexorable force with the least amount of casualties.

And it worked flawlessly. Once the warboss was dead the rest of the orkish forces had turned upon each other, whatever allegiance they had to one another had vanished once they saw their lord fall, the massive Waagh finally splitting into warring factions. The Imperials were only too happy to oblige in quickening the end, but in the bedlam, fatalities were inevitable.

A feeble nudge in his mind made him turn to the body of an ork, he walked over to the corpse and lifted the immense body as if it were a ragdoll before casually tossing it away, his interest lay in what lay underneath. The immobile and bloody form of a trooper had lain underneath the crushing force of the greenskin's mass for what could have been hours, the slow but steady heartbeat made Alexandro wonder how this person had survived. He knelt down next to the unconscious soldier and looked at the face, covered by matted and muddy hair, before picking the Guardsman up gently in one hand – his suit quietly whining as it adjusted to this subtle gesture – and putting his other hand up, signaling to the wandering medics that a survivor had been found.

Though the price had been high, it wasn't high enough to render the victory sour and already the tales of victory and glory were replacing the previously melancholic air that had hung about the Guard. As Alexandro heard the sermons of a priest a few hundred meters away, the pious individual bellowing praises of the Emperor and how He had graced His angels to walk amongst them, he grimaced; the worship of the 'God-Emperor' that the population had would have to be rectified after the liberation of the planet.

Alexandro looked up, searching for an answer to all Humanity's problems in twinkling heavens that lay beyond his reach, before shaking his head and resuming to trudge across the scarred earth.

'This cleansing is taking far longer than I thought it would,' Alexandro heard before the blast doors to the conference room opened, it was a voice he didn't recognize, 'we've already lost thirty thousand men in holding back the greenskin scum.'

'We would have lost them anyways,' came the harsh but measured reply of Captain Raphael, ' we are up against the largest ork incursion this sector has ever seen in recorded history, fatalities are inevitable, without us the Imperials would have just been swept away.'

Alexandro walked in to see the august Captain of the Second arguing with a comparatively diminutive but unfazed elderly individual flanked by smaller Space Marines in matt-black armor who easily met the piercing gaze of the hulking Marine before them. He turned to mingle in with the other Astartes in the room who had likewise been summoned with him.

'I am aware of the predicament that you Astartes are in right now and yet I wonder, why save this Emperor-forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere?'

'My Chapter is here to fight the enemies of the Emperor as we have done for thousand of years, we do not approve of your methods in solving conflicts like these,' Raphael tersely replied, crossing his arms.

'But it is clearly effective, as shown over the ten millennia that we too have existed. Valuable time and resources are being wasted on this one world when your Chapter could be fighting dozens of wars across the Ultima Segmentum, and from what I hear, the Tau are on the move.'

The captain gave an exasperated sigh before massaging his temple with his gauntlet-encased hands, 'This eradication of the xenos is entering its final stages, such drastic measures do not need to be taken lest the situation proves to be manageable, I believe that the Exterminatus has always been used as a last resort.'

'Why yes it is Captain,' the man whispered nodding, as if talking to himself, 'and yet…do I detect a trace of doubt in your tone?'

'You do not. Our cyclonic warheads are at your disposal, our Chapter isn't brash enough to ignore the will of the Inquisition when it comes knocking at our door.'

'A wise choice,' nodded the man whose stylized 'I' shaped pendant swung lazily from his neck, 'hence I will give you one more chance, you have two weeks to clear this infestation off the system or, by the authority of the Inquisition, Pandor will burn.'

'In the Adeptus Astartes, we are only accustomed to having one.' Raphael replied grimly before looking at the new arrivals who all feigned ignorance in the light of the visitor's authority, 'I see that you all have met Inquisitor Frederick of the Ordo Xenos who has just arrived in system a few days ago with reinforcements from Segmentum Command in Kar Duniash to aid our plight in wiping out the xenos.'

The Astartes in the room only nodded once towards the Captain, ignoring the Inquisitor, their helmets betrayed no emotion as they stood in silent vigil of the situation that was enfolding, refusing to regard the Inquisitor as anything other than a man, this apathetic view on most members of 'His Holy Orders' didn't gain much favor amongst their ranks.

'Ah,' Frederick said coolly, 'I see that the noble Astartes are as energetic as ever to the likes of me.'

'My men do not feel comfortable with a mortal commanding them,' Raphael said voicing their thoughts, 'but they will serve nonetheless, do not expect anything more from them.'

'Oh I won't, besides I have my Deathwatch and my Interrogators to keep me company,' the Inquisitor replied before sizing up the obviously larger Sagittarians to his smaller but no less imposing Marines belonging to the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Xenos. His eyes then fell upon Alexandro's enormous form, 'that is one big Marine you have there Captain.'

'Hmm? That would be Alexandro, the most recent addition to our proud Chapter and already honored by the Chapter Master.'

'A recent addition to the Chapter and already he bears the Crux Terminatus, what act of heroism has he done to deserve such an honor?'

'Lets just say that without him, this campaign would have been a whole lot uglier,' the Captain bluntly stated and Alexandro's spirit soared at such recognition.

'So he must be a psyker then,' the Inquisitor deduced with a sour smile, as if just noticing the dim glow that emanated from the Marine's eyes, 'curious, my equipment have only detected thirty psykers on this ship but none aboard the bridge. Interrogator Selene, could you measure his psych?'

'Is this necessary Inquisitor? We have already measured his psych with our equipment and they didn't survive the test.'

'Its just a precaution, I have more trust in my interrogator than I do for you Astartes; her verdict will be final. And though I am concerned for her welfare, she herself is an Epsilon level psyker and I think that she is up for the job at hand.'

'I too do not detect anything psychic here lord,' said a lithe blonde who appeared from behind a Deathwatch's back, covered from neck to toe in a black void-suit that clung tightly to her athletic frame, she stared at Alexandro intently and he was suddenly aware of a mental probe that swam amidst the invisible barriers around him, 'but it pains me to be near him, I'm guessing an Omega level, a potential Culexus Assassin I must add. Wait a minute, I have something.'

Alexandro, growing weary of this cheap parley trick, flicked the probe away with his mind, a move that made Selene fall to her knees; clutching her head between her hands as runnels of blood streamed from her eyes and nose. The Deathwatch looked wary and some of them reached for their bolters, the once calm air was now charged with tension but it was dispelled slowly as the extricated Interrogator slowly picked herself off the floor.

'What did you find Selene?' Frederick asked worriedly whilst glaring at the Marine in question, Alexandro didn't respond.

'He is beyond anyone I've met in psychic might,' she gasped, her replies coming out in stuttered gasps as she wiped her bloody nose, 'much more powerful than me, he is beyond Alpha, a potential danger to everyone around him.'

'Then what is to stop us from killing him right now or bringing him back to the Ordo Malleus Monastery in Titan?'

'The fact that he didn't destroy us the moment we entered the system perhaps, he has incredible self control for one whose class tends to rip open a miniature Eye of Terror before getting ripped apart by the tempest of the Warp.'

'Do you have any theories for this Captain?'

'Librarian Larsus has come up with the theory that the daemonic possession that he underwent somehow made him harmonize with the warp before his full potential was unlocked.'

'You are telling me that this Marine is a shell for a denizen of the Empyrean?' the Inquisitor spat whilst reaching for the plasma pistol at his hip, 'What heresy is this?'

Ignoring all the weapons that the Deathwatch now aimed at him Alexandro calmly replied, 'A shell no longer, I fought off the presence of the Lord of Change an, in the process, became…illuminated. I know the true nature of the Warp and, thus, I am incorruptible so I suggest you stay your weapons before there is unnecessary bloodshed.'

The Inquisitor flinched slightly at the word 'Illuminated', 'Your choice of words are discerning.'

'It was deliberate, Inquisitor, in my short life I have been through more than you could possibly know…knowledge is power.'

'But ignorance is safety' Frederick finished, getting the hidden message, 'put down your guns men, I believe that there is no danger here.'

The Deathwatch reluctantly lowered their bolters before holstering them at their sides, unable to act their own will as they were honor-bound to the Ordo Xenos. The conversation suddenly took on a more militaristic air as the Captain began conferring with a Deathwatch Marine – evidently the leader – who had one pauldron painted in the heraldry of their Ultramarines brethren on tactics in combating the orks. Centuries of experience with state-of-the-art anti-xenos weaponry, the Deathwatch were the best chance Humanity had against such alien incursions. And along with the might of the Sagittarians at their side, the greenskins were in for one hell of a fight.

Selene glared at Alexandro from the corner of her eye before jabbing at him with psych, it missed, he, knowing that she was not out for his blood, merely shrugged.

'_Better luck next time,' _he projected into her thoughts, easily sidestepping or overpowering her mental barriers, before turning to the debate to suggest his all time favorite tactics in combating this numerous foe.

The vote had been unanimous. Alexandro was now the force commander of the small army that would assault the ork warboss's private retinue whilst the rest of the Imperials defended a small valley leading to the capital city from the relentless Waagh in a last ditch attempt to control and, perhaps, end this greenskin invasion. With the ork's attention focused elsewhere, a small force of Astartes would not be noticed as, their brains hardwired to run to wherever the fighting was thickest, the orks would be too occupied by the impending bloodshed to do much else.

Along with the speartip maneuver, the orks would slowly be fed into a bottleneck that would allow the combined firepower of the bombardment cannons from both _The Dreadful Sagittary_ and the _Invictus_ would annihilate the remainders of the disordered mob. Even the smartest warboss in the galaxy would be unable to slow down the inertia that the Waagh had created in time to avoid this impending doom, with the Deathwatch accompanying two squads of Sagittarians in dealing this final blow, the morale amongst the Imperials was high. But what they didn't know were the numbers, the final figures that the recent recon satellite images had gleaned from above showed orks massing in the millions, all hell-bent into destroying the remaining resistance before carving themselves an empire in the sector that would plague the Imperium with unnecessary problems for centuries to come.

As he thought upon this, Alexandro's thoughts turned to Rhode who had just been found, he had fallen over a hundred meters down a ravine and had lain unconscious in the unforgiving earth for over a day until his emergency locator's signal had finally been detected by the awaiting medics. He now lay in recovery under the watchful eye of the Chapter's Apothecaries, the time he went in the low-oxygen environment resulted in unforeseen side effects as he didn't respond to the awakening balms they applied, something that worried Alexandro who couldn't bear in losing a Battle-Brother that he had bonded with in the anvils of war. Making up his mind, Alexandro turned and strode for the hospital wing in the camp.

The atmosphere in the building was solemn, rows and rows of beds were filled with either the wounded or the dying; the dead having their dog tags ripped off before going to the incinerator to prevent infection. Pungent smoke that smelt like burning flesh assailed his nose has he passed the medics who just stopped what they were doing to acknowledge the mighty Astartes that walked before them. Even the patients ignored their wounds for a moment to gawp in terror at the sheer size of the Librarian up close. He disregarded them all, only giving nods to those who he remembered fighting well in the previous battle.

As he reached the end of the room, he noticed an Marine clad in white beckoning to him, Alexandro quickly informed him of his purpose in visiting; the Apothecary nodded before moving aside the white curtain encircled his patient. The sleeping form of Rhode lay in four separate beds, strapped together to compensate for his superhuman frame, with a few life-support machines printing out vital signs attached to his body via wires into the ports of his black carapace.

'What is his status Apothecary?' he asked.

'He still lies in the Red Dream, unresponsive to anything that we have administered, and there is something else…' the Apothecary trailed off.

'What is it Brother?'

'It seems that he has a picked up a growth of some sort on his neck,' he said while gently moving Rhode's head so that Alexandro could see the grayish, tendrils of unearthly material that grew in the vessels of his neck surrounded by a series of puncture marks, 'and judging by the shape of this hole, that was how it got in.'

'Where was the place he fell?'

'In a gorge not too far away from here,' he gestured pointing to the east, 'medics reported being unnerved when they descended to get to his body, usually I would see this as a general fear of the dark that they have but even I am beginning to have my suspicions about this place.'

'And what would that be?'

'Librarian Theo, a good friend of mine, mentioned this sector as one where even the rogue traders would avoid unless absolutely necessary, the major reason why this subsector is so sparsely populated, whispered rumors of dark powers and a slumbering evil has been around for a long time. This planet could have more than one alien on it.'

'Duly noted Apothecary, but for now I have come to see what I could do to wake him up, a psychic trigger could rouse him.'

'I'm not sure Brother, the arcane is not in my field of specialty, but it is worth a try.'

Alexandro nodded before bending down and reaching out with his mind, Rhode's mind was easy to find and immediately he met strong mental resistance from his Brother's mind. He slowly increased the pressure against the barrier, pushing it more and more, careful not to break Rhode's mind.

As the force grew to the point where it would have torn a hole into the warp, something shattered. An invisible barrier that had lain around the entire world broke like a pane of glass and suddenly Alexandro felt a monstrous intelligence rousing from its deep slumber. Rhode's eyes snapped open, writhing as if possessed, and he began yelling, 'THE SLEEPERS WILL AWAKEN, THE UNLIVING WILL RISE ASCENDANT.'

The young Librarian flinched as his mind was assaulted; ghastly images of endless rows of skeletal automatons, wielding glowing wargear, marching across a thousand worlds with a nightmarish creature at its head. All this slammed into his psyche and he almost blacked out from the sheer malice and the unquenchable hunger that these beings exhibited. One word came out of all this, a word that whispered promises of carnage and destruction on a galactic scale, a power so great that even the stars would burn out in its wake to leave the night sky as devoid of life as the planets below it: Necrontyr.'

As Rhode collapsed onto his bed, Alexandro, still kneeling, brooded upon the latest turn of events, suddenly aware that he awoken a fragment of this prehistoric evil as a result of probing his friend. No doubt this would make the campaign a whole lot harder and it would deem this previously unknown Tomb World beyond salvation.

'What is wrong Alexandro?' came the voice of the Apothecary, 'what have you found out? Judging by your increased heart rate and whitened skin I would say something very bad.'

Turning to the speaker, Alexandro shook his head bleakly, 'The Necron are here, Apothecary, we'll have vox the Chapter Master to inform him on this latest twist, this cleansing has taken a turn for the worst.'

Elsewhere on the planet, hidden within an empty magma chamber for countless millennia, ancient monoliths and obelisks began powering up, breaking free from the rocky bonds that encased them, and eerie green light emanated from the intrinsic lines carved into the metallic obsidian.

Emaciated hands flailed outward from the pumice, groping the air as if for the first time, before finding hold upon bulky devices alive with the same green energy that powered the buildings. The legion of skeletal figures that burst from the ash were not human nor were they biological, they were Necron; soulless automatons destined to serve their metallic Gods for all time.

From atop its pedestal the Necron Lord would have smiled at the army below him if it had lips. The assortment of the undead army was terrifying to behold, some cloaked in tattered flesh of their victims, others integrated into floating gun platforms, but most of them gripping onto their gauss weaponry; all had their attention on their leader and no other. The slow and inexorable march began as soon as the Lord raised its cursed staff above its head.

The atmosphere in the command bunker was tense as Alexandro conveyed his suspicions to the Chapter Master who was, even now, combating an ork raid on a vital foundry. It was no small thing to condemn an entire world to the reaper's scythe, no matter how remote or significant, because it usually involved ending the lives of millions of innocent Imperial citizens in storm of fire.

'Can this be?' came the voice of Mikhail Jain, 'Necron are not even supposed to be in this sector.'

'I'm afraid it could be,' Alexandro replied, 'and we should all know by now that, with the minute amount of knowledge we have about this threat, anything goes. Besides they held an empire that encompassed the entire galaxy eons ago, I won't be surprised to find a Tomb World in every hundred worlds.'

'This is truly a shocking revelation, we will be responsible for the entire planet on our hands, after all we've done…after all those men we've lost…this planet is doomed to die anyways.'

'What should we do about this situation then, my lord?'

'The Imperial commanders will have to be made aware of this.'

'No I wasn't asking about that, I was asking on the fate of our Battle-Brothers as well as the other Imperial forces on this planet, staying on this planet will put more and more of them at risk.'

'I know, this will be a lot to think about, I fear that this world could be on its last breath. What say you young one?'

'I think that we need to follow the Inquisitor's original idea of destroying this planet, the corruption here is too great and we cannot risk having their vessels leave the system.'

'Other alternatives should be considered first, its too rash and it is overkill to destroy an entire world if other options do not present themselves.'

'Then we shall fight them,' came the stern voice of Constantine, a member of the exalted Command Honor Guard, 'we shall fight them like the warriors we are.'

'As much as I wish to do so, I will have to disagree. As little as we know about Necron, there is one fact that must be known above all others; the fact that they cannot be killed. At least not with conventional weapons or methods.'

'What do you mean they can't be killed? All enemies of the Emperor can be put down by honest gunfire and vengeful swings of the sword.'

'It is true Constantine,' the voice of their liege lord said wearily with the bestial roars of orks echoing from around him, 'I have been to the Imperial records, the reason why we know so little about their anatomy or their command hierarchy is because no Necron has ever been captured, dead or alive.'

'This is why even the smallest patrol of these undying monsters are so feared by those who know of them,' Alexandro interjected, 'the only reason the Imperium of Man hasn't fallen to this force is because only patrols and small raiding parties have awoken, Emperor protect the first man to fight an entire Necron legion. Think carefully lord, the entire subsector is at stake here, what would Gulliman do?'

'I am aware of the Codex Astartes and our utilitarian Primarch's approach to these situations. But we are not Ultramarines, despite being derived from their blood, we are Sagittarians and we carry with us the most knowledgeable Marines in the galaxy, rival to those in the Blood Ravens Chapter. We will see how events occur, evaluate all the opportunities presented to us before making any decisions.'

'What I am worried about though,' the young Librarian said calmly, 'is how the Inquisitor will react to these latest turn of events.'

'He cannot be made aware of this,' came the blunt reply, 'his kind threatens to destabilize the very foundations of what the Adeptus Astartes stand for, we were not born to follow the heels of mere mortals, we bow down only to one man; the Emperor Himself.'

'You are aware that by withholding this crucial piece of information, we could be branded as heretics working against the betterment of Humanity?'

'A more devout and headstrong Inquisitor might do so, but Frederick doesn't seem to be one who would foolishly excommunicate the only Chapter holding back the myriad of enemies in this sector.'

'I guess not, but it would be prudent not to underestimate the Inquisitor's motives.'

The Chapter Master laughed, 'isn't that what the Librarians of the Chapter are here for? Couldn't you have guessed his intentions by now?'

Slightly ruffled, Alexandro replied, 'I only see how he stays steadfast to the Imperial ideal.'

'Their version of the Imperial ideal,' Mikhail snorted, surprisingly calm in the chaos around him the young Librarian noted, 'one altered by mouth over the course of ten millennia and enforced by the pious. We, on the other hand, have followed the commands of the Emperor, unchanged, in the form of our Brotherhood and the venerated Codex Astartes.'

'My point is that all I've managed to glean from the man is his loyalty to the Emperor, I just don't feel comfortable in accessing and tampering the mind of a good servant.'

'Put aside your own agenda for the sake of the Chapter, Alexandro, glean what you can from the man since his like have intentions that go beyond the promises they make.'

'I will do my best lord.'

'Good man, find out what you can about this latest threat and report to me later once the final battle is over, I have a few more greenskins to crush, Mikhail out.'

Alexandro closed the channel with a thought before taking in his surroundings once again. As usual all eyes were on him, the chilly aura of null psych that he had about him was worrying to say the very least. The mist of frost that circled around him, mainly concentrated on his hands and his eyes, drew unwanted attention and hushed superstitious whispers from the Guard; men he considered allies. His fellow Astartes on the other hand held no such qualms to a fellow Battle-Brother, to them, he was just a gifted individual who had been graced with their geneseed.

'So,' came the ever-light tone of Patroclus's voice, 'what did he say?'

'He has a lot to think about,' he replied, 'but this doesn't change our plans, we should move out to rendezvous with the rest of the Imperial forces…

It is time to end this incursion once and for all.'

The void of space rippled gently as something sleek and elegant emerged from the Webway. With its dark wraithbone construct bending the very starlight around it, the _Swift Wraith_ of the Ulthwe entered real space as silently as a ghost.

Deep within its black hull, Farseer Ida massaged the pale skin of her temple with the tips of her smooth fingers. Her warlock companions stood ever vigilant by her side, acting as advisors, diplomat and warriors depending on the situation. She inhaled deeply as the heavier air of real space flooded her lungs, momentarily discomforting her until she acclimatized to the new environment.

'Farseer,' came the menacingly low voice of the Dark Reaper Exarch from behind her, 'we have entered the system, but tell me, what are we doing so far away from the Eye of Terror where we should be?'

'Because,' came her melodious response, 'the runes tell me that the Yngir will awaken on this planet, the blundering mon-keigh do not know what they are dealing with, they threaten this subsector with the consequences of their stupidity. And I also see a weapon, one from the days before our proud species conquered the stars.'

'You cannot mean…' the Exarch exhaled in a hushed whisper.

'Yes, a relic of the Old Ones, one we can use to fight and destroy our ancient enemy,' the Farseer smiled.


	12. Chapter 10: A Twist

Hey guys, if it seems to you that I haven't laid down my structure for the chapters its probably because theres been something up with the uploads to fanfiction where I lose the stars, '*' yeah these, that signify when a section of a chapter is done. And as for the weird layout now...I've given up on Microsoft Office for Macs and I have made the change to using Open Office to write the Chapters as it seems to have better functions.

Once again I'm not exactly writing as much as I have hoped. But summer is finally here and, unless something else comes up, I will be putting some more time into this fanfic...so yeah, these delayed chapters wont be so...delayed.

And finally to those of you who read this, I'd really appreciate it if you give me detailed reviews as to where I'm doing well and to which areas I should improve in. Oh and perhaps names for a few new characters that I am planning to add to the storyline.

And now to the reviews and to the people who have put this on their favorite stories list:

Zekonos: Thanks a lot :)

Ceedubya0275: Good to know that my efforts are appreciated

Ah I do realize that its been almost two months since my last chapter but I'm working on it, I've practically planned out the next six chapters and I've written the next three chapters to a degree, but I won't post them up yet since experimenting with a few ideas and stuff.

Looking at the workload that I've been tasked to do over the summer, I know that I will not be able to reach the 200K word limit that I set myself to do a while back, but hopefully that will be done by the end of this year.

Expect to see about three to four chapters over the course of the holidays, each varying from five to ten thousand words. The absolute minimum will be two, I assure you fans, so there won't be any more disappointment in waiting.

**Chapter 10**

"Five-second fuses only last three seconds!"

-Imperial Guardsman drillmaster

'INCOMING!'

Guardsman Avery McKenzie of the 81st Pandoran Regiment immediately ducked behind a rockrete slab, as he heard those three syllables yelled at by him by his superior officer, a split second before the shell hit. The ground beneath him shook as the round exploded, showering unprotected Guardsmen with deadly shrapnel blown outward by the concussive force of the blast, punching through their flesh and bone as if it were paper, making mincemeat out of what used to be faithful citizens of the Imperium.

Avery watched as his friends were cut down by the merciless wave of death, clutching the hellgun that he had scavenged from the now dead Commissar of his part of the regiment close to his chest in a death grip, whispering prayers to the divine Emperor for salvation.

With the initial wave of destruction over he allowed himself to rest in the shelter of a fallen building, finding solace in between the debris, thinking about what had befallen Pandor over these past few months. He looked out across this alien landscape to where the Malcadorian Arch used to stand, the relic commemorating the sacrifice one of the greatest men ever had fallen to the ork bombardment only a few days prior, and with it came down the morale of the local populace.

Orks...the mere thought of those beasts brought shivers down Avery's spine, green skinned monsters that lived in the chaos of war. They were the reason for all this destruction, the reason for all this death and he hated them despite fearing them.

A rustle behind the Guardsman made him swiftly turn around with his hellgun trained at the source of the noise.

He felt something vast and unnatural watching him, his consciousness flinched from the mental contact.

'Who are you?' he asked hoarsely, 'What are you?' louder this time with his gun aimed at a certain part of the dead vegetation that now a common sight within the fallen city.

He only received deafening silence.

'I know you are there, answer me or I will shoot,' he said louder in desperation, fingering the trigger and keeping steady aim despite the shivers that wracked his muscles and the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm him. He could almost sense something alien watching him, toying with him, waiting for him to break down before leaping in for the kill. Orks didn't make sport of their victims. This was no ork.

Another rustle from a bush to his left made him swiftly spin on his toe, kneel and double tap the trigger, firing the las beam into what he thought was the newest source of this noise. The shrub cried out in pain briefly before being silenced by a second volley of shots.

Avery cautiously walked towards the plant, the gun still in his hands, before kicking away the rotting vegetation to reveal a lithe body wearing black armor made of a material he had never seen before, he bent down and ripped off its conical helmet unsubtly before staring at the unconscious alien beneath him.

The xenos was humanoid and female, with two eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth fixed at the right places, but that was where the similarities ended. The pointed ears and the long face reminded him of the fickle elves that lived in the myths of his planet, her pristine alabaster face was relaxed and, for a moment, Avery thought that the alien was dead. But the quiet but steady rhythm of her breathing erased this blessed possibility and he curled his sweaty finger around the trigger as he prepared himself to finish the deed.

Before he could do so the alien's eyes opened abruptly, shooting out an arm that caught Avery in the jaw, the strength behind the blow belied the graceful frame that this xenos had and he was lifted of his feet.

Upon hitting the ground he rolled over, hearing the sound of small projectiles hitting where he was just seconds ago, before lashing out with his right leg, landing on the alien's legs and knocking her over. He picked himself off the dusty floor whilst his opponent lay disoriented on the floor, waving away the choking dust that threatened to block up his lungs, and reached for the combat knife at his waist before leaping at xeno, not giving her a chance to stand up and use her superior weapon.

He crashed into her lithe frame, the force from the body slam knocking them both to the ground, scrabbling on the floor and aimed his weapon at her torso. After scraping the weapon across the immaculate surface of the alien's breastplate for a split second he found a gap between two plates for his knife and plunged the serrated blade into her ribs, this brought out a cry of pain from his opponent who deftly used both legs to kick him away, one landed on his crotch and he doubled back in pain, momentarily incapacitated from the underhand blow. She stood up, the knife's hilt still embedded within her body before sluggishly swaying and falling to her knees, feebly attempting to pull out the blade.

'You know not what you do mon-keigh,' came her sing-song voice, the words coming out of her mouth making a mockery of Low Gothic.

'Silence alien,' he hissed through gritted teeth as the pain began to ebb away, 'do not sully my language with your tongue.'

Avery picked himself off the floor slowly, grabbing onto a boulder for support before trudging towards the alien, he grasped a handful of her charcoal black hair before looking intently into her sapphire-blue eyes. He slowly dragged the knife from the alien's midriff and held it across her throat, the alien merely watched the blade smiling faintly as blood trickled from her mouth. There was no pleading, no struggling but a quiet acceptance as to her fate and, for a moment, Avery admired her courage because he knew that if the tables were turned he wouldn't be so calm, he immediately chastened himself for to admire the alien was heresy to the Imperial creed.

As he was about to bring the blade across her throat, he caught a familiar stench in the wind and grimaced as to what it portended.

'So, it looks like the animals are here,' mused his enemy, referring to the orks that were on their way, 'where are your allies human?'

Her words brought a part of him to reality, where were the rest of his regiment? He had been so preoccupied for the last few minutes that the logical part of him had been ignored, he realized that he was alone and that the greenskins were advancing. The smug look on her face made him realize that the alien knew about this all along, his scolded himself mentally for losing awareness of his surroundings.

'Aren't you going to finish it?'

He turned to the speaker, a plan formulating in his head, he prayed for forgiveness as to what he was about to do.

'I have to get out of here.' he whispered, giving voice to the heretical thoughts in his head.

Her head tilted slightly, the bewitching eyes feigning surprise, "And you are telling me this because?"

'Because I know that I won't make it back to Imperial lines by myself, I will need your help in walking through this no man land.'

'And what would stop me from killing you the moment your back is turned, why would I agree to this plan anyways?'

'Because I am not killing you now, this honorable death that you deserved is null, to die here would be shameful and though my people abhor the alien technology you bear upon you, the orks will be all too willing to integrate your systems into their arsenal no matter how difficult it is to replicate,' he looked deeper into her eyes, almost getting lost within them, 'You will be a failure to your people, whoever they are, dooming them to a death in the hands of their own creation.'

The arrogance in the alien's blue irises died down a little, suggesting that his point had struck home.

'Very well Avery McKenzie, this alliance will only be short, and only for the duration of the trip, do not think me to be an ally of your people by the end of this.'

He raised an eyebrow.

'How did you know my name?'

'I know many things mon-keigh, my race is attuned to the Empyrean in ways you can't possibly know, I have looked into your soul and it has told me everything about you.'

He recoiled away from her, spitting out the only word he knew that would define such inhuman filth.

'Witch.'

The alien stood up giddily and immediately lost balance, grasping onto Avery's shoulder for support, he recoiled from the contact but nonetheless stood still long enough for her to get back up on her feet.

'Witch I may be but you will need my help nonetheless, we will both need each other if we are to survive this. We must hasten, the greenskins are near.'

Avery looked skyward as the meteoric landing craft of the orks continuously fell from orbit, supplying the beasts with countless reinforcements. It seemed ironic to him that the craft looked more beautiful in death than it had ever been in life. He then heard the excited grunts of the greenskins from nearby, they had picked up his scent.

The race was on.

Shas'O Sa'cea Mont'yr watched from a nearby hill at the two aliens making their way across the ruined cityscape, the targeting system built into his elongated helm placed targeting reticules on their bodies, something that he ignored...for now. The blood of the fire caste was burning in his veins; urging him to take his warriors on a purge of the planet for the Greater Good, but he resisted the temptation with orders from the Ethereal although it was strong.

The Tau turned left to his lieutenant who was similarly surveying the destruction wrought by the foul greenskins, the only race that the Tau would refuse to integrate into their society.

'What is the situation Shas T'au Kais?'

'Everything is going well, commander, the orks are moving forward just as planned.'

'And our other opponents?'

'They are unaware of the events they have set into motion Shas'O, they will fall here and those who do not accept the teachings of the Greater Good will be destroyed.'

As Alexandro finished the Rites of Cleansing on his armor in his quarters, a shadow appeared from behind him.

'Inquisitor,' the young Librarian stated bluntly without turning around, gracefully sliding the right gauntlet onto his naked hand, encasing it within a protective shell of adamantine and ceramite with a _hiss._ Inwardly Alexandro sighed as he turned his arm over, clenching and unclenching his fist.

'Ah,' the old man sounded perturbed ', Alexandro, I have been wanting to discuss a few matters with you.'

'Do you request this from me as a curious individual or as an Inquisitor?' the young Librarian asked whilst looking at the pendant that lay half hidden within the folds of the other man's cloak.

'I ask you as an Inquisitor,' Frederick replied more sternly, 'I don't know how you were inducted into that mystical brotherhood but I want answers, for years I have scoured the galaxy for rumors of the mystical cabal that you have joined mere months after being inducted into the Astartes.'

'It is a long story Inquisitor, but rather than telling it to you, how about I show you?'

The man flinched as he guessed the implications what the Astartes in front of him was suggesting.

'Very well…' he sighed eventually, curiosity getting the better of him.

'Brace yourself' Alexandro warned before he reached out with his vast mind, picking out certain memories and flooding the Inquisitor with the horrific experiences that he had endured, taking away the demonic touch to retain the man's sanity. Inquisitor Frederick paled slightly and grimaced but stayed standing in defiance of the gale that beset him mentally; to withstand thousands of images a second was a hard thing to do.

It was all done in a matter of seconds. Frederick shivered as he took a seat on a nearby stool, running his fingers through his thinning hair; Alexandro on the other hand was unaffected, having not even broken sweat.

'So,' the young Librarian asked casually, 'does that satisfy your curiosity, Inquisitor?'

The man didn't reply for a moment, obviously shaken, staring at his hands before gripping onto the table as if wanting to hold onto something real after seeing the horrors that he saw. 'Yes…why yes it does,' came the murmur.

The distinct tramping of boots alerted Alexandro to an approaching Astartes, the weight of the footfalls on the rockcrete suggesting a lighter Deathwatch Marine rather than a bulkier Sagittarian. Not long afterwards a Space Marine who Alexandro recognized as Sergeant Hadrian of the Ultramarines, affectionately known as 'Seeker' by his fellow brothers in Team Delphi, came around the corner, armed and ready with his unlit heavy flamer cradled in both hands.

'Sir,' he said somewhat reluctantly, suggesting that even these Astartes didn't enjoy having Inquisitors leading them, 'Team Delphi are ready for battle, we await your orders.'

'Very well,' said Frederick, getting his authoritative voice back, 'be ready to board the Thunderhawk Three in fifteen minutes.

As the the fight raged on between the Imperium and the vile greenskins, elsewhere on the planet a small shimmering construct emerged into existence, growing more and more solid by the second.

The moment it lost its translucency, a small detachment of armored warriors phased into reality from the immaterium. Almost all the sunlight was absorbed into their black plates, only reflecting off their white masks and red eyepieces. They spread out, covering all possible angles of approach to the location, before one of them gave the an all-clear hand gesture. Only then did the Exarch of the Dark Reapers set foot upon the planet of Pandor.

With a charcoal black carapace encasing his wiry frame and a bone-white helmet covering his alien face, he was a sight to behold. The Exarch hefted his Tempest Launcher _Soul Reaper, _a beautiful but deadly piece of art_,_ the bane of many a foe, the bringer of death to the lowly gretchin and the mighty greater daemon of Slannesh alike.

'Farseer," he asked, "are you sure this is where the weapon is going to be?'

'Yes Lysenko,' Ida replied from behind as she too materialized from the Webway, choosing to address him by the name that he left behind centuries ago rather than the honorific title of Exarch, 'my visions have shown me this place and I am certain that the ancient artifact lies somewhere nearby, I can sense it...'

The normally stoic Exarch flinched slightly at the use of his old name, any other Eldar would have been reprimanded for disobeying the hierarchical protocols, but he and Ida had known each other for millennia so he could only glower behind his impassive mask.

'Your visions have been wrong before...' he said cautiously.

'But they have also been right as well,' she retorted quickly, 'do you not believe me?'

'Its just that...' he trailed off, losing his train of thought, 'why would this weapon reveal itself now, thousands of years after the Fall? Such power could have been able to stop it. This could all be a trap set by our ancient foe.'

'Although I am able to vaguely pierce through the mists of the future, I cannot guess the intentions of the heavens. Put plainly, I don't know Lysenko, but it has revealed itself here and now and we must utilize this brief window of opportunity to strike out at the Yngir, all that I am asking for from you is your trust for I cannot do this alone.'

'What do you mean Farseer?' he asked quizzically, looking towards the formidable force of Black Guardians that stood vigilant alongside his Dark Reapers, their minds vibrant with passion with the eagerness to spill blood for Khaine, 'even without my forces, surely nothing on this planet can stand up against the proud children of Ulthwe.'

'I see that there are many challenges in the road ahead, such a weapon wielded by the Old Ones themselves wouldn't be undefended in its resting place. And I fear that our forces with have to pull a few strings in the war on the planet for our own benefit, we will soon have to fight against the barbaric orks and the evil machinations of the Great Enemy to change the fate of the otherwise doomed galaxy.'

'What?' the Exarch asked incredulously, 'you are asking us to side with these lowly mon-keigh?'

'Yes I am, for one amongst them has is the fulcrum that pivots this entire game, he could either be our savior or our worst nightmare made real.'

'Such fates designated to an inferior species,' he scoffed before pausing, 'if such dangers lie ahead then we'd better start moving now, I'd rather fight and enemy toe to toe rather than cowering from it.'

'For once you are right,' she smiled, 'we move out immediately before we attract unwanted attention.'

Ignoring the jibe his thoughts turned to Maugan Ra, his patron Phoenix Lord, drawing blood as he bit into his lip with his sharp canines whilst quietly chanting the motto of the Dark Reapers.

"_War is my master, death is my mistress..."_

The interior of the matt-black Thunderhawk was tight as the spacecraft sped above the clouds at supersonic speeds, two squads of Astartes barely fit into a space designed to hold three, the reason for this being that the Techpriests of the Mechanicus didn't account the Sagittarians in their design, their considerably larger forms taking up more room than a conventional Marine.

Alexandro watched as the tortured landscape flashed before him, his enhanced eyes picking out every last detail, grimly assessing what the war with the greenskins had done to this previously verdant and bountiful world. Far off into the distance, almost a hundred miles away, he caught a glimpse a faint silhouette that he recognized as Lord Pandor's fortress and he smiled wistfully at the events that seemed to have happened so long ago. He turned away from the macabre vista as the castle vanished from sight and opened his private vox channel with a thought.

'Pilot, how long till we rendezvous with the rest of the Imperial forces?'

The serf flying the craft replied almost immediately.

'We are almost there sir,' he said respectfully, 'the auspex estimate about twenty minutes until we reach the set coordinates.'

'Any hostiles?'

'No sign of them sir, recent orbital imagery shows them all grouping to the south of our destination, it seems as though they know that we're coming; they're getting ready for us sir.'

'That is good to know, continue to update me with the situation, I want to be ready should it change. Alexandro out.'

As he cut the link, he saw a pinion of green light crackle brightly in the horizon for a moment before the view was cut off by a cloud, yet the image was stuck in his head.

'What was that?' asked one Deathwatch who had also been looking in the same direction.

'I have an idea as to what that was,' the young Librarian replied, 'and I don't like it.'

'Illuminate me,' came the voice of Sergeant Hadrian from behind him, ' as to what that could be.'

Alexandro didn't reply for a few moments before sighing.

'It is the _Yngir_,' he said grimly, 'it seems that they have finally shown themselves.'

'Yngir?' the Deathwatch leader asked, confused, his tongue catching on the alien syllable, 'that name doesn't even sound human.'

'That's because it isn't, it has been coined by the Eldar as a name for the undying threat that now begins to rise from its slumber to purge this galaxy of the living.'

'Speak not in riddles, brother, just get to the point.'

A pause, Alexandro sighed briefly, evaluating all the possible consequences of revealing this vital piece of information without his Chapter Master's consent. But he ruled them out, they were fellow Astartes, irrespective of their separate Chapters.

'They are the Necron, this entire planet is a Tomb World.'

Every Marine in the vicinity stopped what they were doing to stare at Alexandro.

'How? There has never been a recorded case of those monstrosities on this planet.'

'The psych that has been generated by this Waagh and, to a lesser extent, me as well as all other psychic beings involved in this war has roused them from their underground catacombs, whatever has been keeping them dormant is now broken and now they are free to rise up against us.'

The sergeant took off his matte-black helmet and rubbed the back of his smooth cranium, although his face as unreadable as stone, Alexandro could feel the weariness permeating from the Marine's entire being.

'Should we deal with this now Seeker?' asked another Deathwatch, this one having the heraldry of the Space Sharks Chapter on his right pauldron.

'No,' said the Ultramarine frowning, obviously irritated at use of his nickname, 'we should first eliminate the primary objective, the commanders are relying on us to deal the final blow, without us they will falter and fall. As for this new threat, it will have to be dealt with later but warn the Guard about the looming threat.'

'I don't think that it will be a good idea,' Alexandro interrupted, 'to inform them that the Necron have arrived will make them lose morale, the mere whisper of the power this enemy has will drive some men mad.'

'But how many of them will even know about them anyways? This information can be kept within the command hierarchy'

'It doesn't matter, out of the thousands of Guardsmen we have, there will be undoubtedly a few who have heard about the Necron, not to mention the scribes and other well-read personnel who have tagged along with the regiments. Word is bound to come out, you can't trust the vox systems of the Imperial Guard especially when its wars on faraway worlds we are talking about. And the rumors they start will run rampant within days or even hours, it will be a nightmare to stop them from mutinying let alone fighting orks.'

Hadrian looked into the lens of his helmet which he now had held in his hands.

'Then how do you plan to deal with this problem once we are done with the greenskins?' asked the Space Shark, 'it won't go away if you ignore it, and every moment we let them go unchecked, the more entrenched they will be upon this world. The Inquisitor will deem this world beyond salvation and use Exterminatus.'

'My Chapter Master has a plan for them, we will not be putting this world to the torch, considering the number of lives lost here.'

'So your Chapter Master knew about this as well?' he asked angrily, 'How long was he going to keep us all in the dark? Damn you Alexandro, damn you and your Chapter for being so secretive.'

The Sagittarians within the Thunderhawk stiffened slightly at the insult to their liege, the sudden change in mood reminding Alexandro of the moment when he revealed his past possession.

'Sergeant,' he said keeping his tone calm and using his psych to sooth the tense situation, 'it would be prudent if you keep your opinions of our Chapter to yourself, as secretive as we might seem to you, we are not all without faults, it is our secrets that keep the Imperium falling from alien invasion every single day.'

The veteran nodded apologetically before continuing to glower at his helm, as if trying to search for something within the ceramite that nobody else could. The young librarian felt something from him that he had never felt before: shame, but not towards this current situation, but towards his entire being. He then realized how the nickname 'Seeker' had come about; the Ultramarine was hurt deep down, someone or something had scarred his soul in the past and now he was on the road of redemption, seeking the answer to his questions as he trekked across the galaxy as a Marine of the Deathwatch, fighting the foes of Man.

Alexandro once again looked outside the window as the clouds began to thin and as the ground became more and more opaque, his retinas picked up the rendezvous point about ten miles away.

'We are almost there,' came the voice of the pilot through the speakers inside the Thunderhawk, coinciding with the Librarian's thoughts, 'landing is imminent.'

Author's note: well thats the end of this Chapter, hope you liked it, as always I appreciate any feedback as well as a possible storyline this fanfic can lean towards since an op Marine should have some worthy adversaries.

As you can tell, I've also added an Imperial Guardsman to the storyline ('a mortal, finally!' I hear you say) with an interesting partner, so hopefully it should balance out the Space Marine's part.

I don't know how long I'm going to have this little bugger for, I might kill him off soon or he could live to an old age with an alien partner and mutant kids or something. I don't know, because its up to you fans out there to make the choices in his life.

I will be starting some polls as to how you want this simple guy to run his life, and I will seriously take your opinions into account so shape it how you will. However the polls will be up for a limited time so make sure you choose quickly. If nobody votes I'll get quite sad...so hopefully you'll choose something.

With the sudden lack of internet for a week, I've almost died of boredom, doing things other than editing this chapter. I know I might get a few flames for it but my later chapters will receive a lot more care and attention.

In the future I'm hoping to lengthen the Inquisitor's part but am presently unable to do so as first I'll have to edit the earlier parts of this story, adding parts to Alexandro's history to make it have some sense.

Chapter 11 is already done, and so is 12 and both of them are already longer than this prologue-chapter-thing that introduces the new characters. Not putting the two all up at once, I'll probably put a chapter up once a week.

More to come.


	13. Chapter 11: Ascension

**Author's note:** All author's notes and response to reviews will be after the Chapter so that you can get straight into the latest addition to this fanfic without reading through all of my reviews. **Important message at the end**. Hopefully the new chapter breaking symbol won't disappear after I upload this. Enjoy

P.S to view this story best I suggest you go to the settings of the page and make it small font, ¾ width and small spacing (that small capital 'E'). In my opinion it makes the content more readable and not as much of an eyesore.

**Chapter 11**

"An army is a body of men assembled

to rectify the mistakes of diplomats."

Sergeant Josephus of the Sagittarians Chapter

...

Ducking and weaving across the wreckage of the doomed town with his alien...partner, he heard the constant panting and howls of excitement coming from behind him, shadowing their every footstep; the orks were after them and they would not rest until their quarry had been taken down.

Exhaustion wracked his body with shivers, covering any exposed skin with a layer of sweat, and looking to his right he could see that the xenos didn't fare much better despite having a better physiognomy as the knife wound he delivered was slowing her down. For a second he regretted dealing her the brutal blow, but he chided himself an instant later for to sympathize the alien was to blaspheme against the God-Emperor.

His inner conflict was interrupted by the alien who broke the silence that had persisted throughout the run.

'In here' she commanded, her voice being projected through the amplifiers in the strangely shaped helmet that she placed on her gorget before the chase began, diving left at a juncture and disappearing into an alley lined with abandoned shops.

Avery instantly slowed down, digging his combat boots into the rubble for more friction, mustered the last reserves of his flagging strength before taking off at a sprint after the xenos.

The alien, already a few doors down, was proceeding to break down a locked door with her foot, reaching her seconds later he gently shoved her aside.

'You're doing it wrong, allow me,' the Guardsman grimaced before breaking the door with one well placed kick at the hinges, shattering the wood inwards.

They swiftly entered the store just as the greenskins behind them turned the corner, Avery turned to replace the door quickly before ducking with the alien.

As they dove down behind a table, Avery's eyes picked out a display full of meat in the dim light that filtered through the nailed wooden boards that barred the windows. Some of the knives and cleavers of the butcher who once owned this place hung neatly in a rack next to a chopping board stained and dented by years of use, the rest taken to defend the man and his family if he had one.

Remembering the devastation that lay just outside this temporary haven he wondered if Pandor would ever recover from this fight, the damage that the greenskins had done to the planet would take decades or even centuries to restore.

The jubilant yells that grew louder with every passing moment made him hold his breath as the orks came closer, the footfalls of a dozen hulking xenos striking fear into his heart. The sound grew in noise and power as their moving shadows momentarily blocked the light coming in from the barred windows, so close that he could hear their nailed boots scraping into the tortured earth.

And then they were gone, their simple minds outsmarted by the sudden but simple evasion maneuver, and Avery released the breath that he realized that he was holding before briefly taking off his visored helmet and wiping his forehead of the sweat and grime that it had accumulated over the course of this eventful day before putting it back on.

Once again looking to the alien he saw that she was as still as stone, her body crouched in a starter's pose; ready to dash out at a moments notice, and yet appearing to be thinking about something.

As he began to wonder what she could be meditating about at this moment, the xenos twitched, breaking the tense atmosphere. Using two black gauntlets, she reached up for her helmet and removed it from her head. Avery could not help but stare at the xeno as she tossed a mane of raven-black hair backwards, her features were exquisite and humanoid, the alabaster face flawless and unmarred by any scars that a warrior should have, he was both repulsed and attracted to this alien beauty. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice her taking out a long pin from one of her side pouches, that seemed to be built into the suit, before tying the hair up into a tight bun, leaving two strands of hair on either side.

Turning to him with the new look, she winced slightly, reflexively rubbing at the wound, breaking the calm complexion that she wore.

'They are gone now,' she said, making him wince slightly at the sound, 'but they will return once their dim minds realize that the trail is lost, you should be thankful that my armor retained the blood from the laceration you dealt with that primitive weapon.'

Avery curtly nodded, ignoring the thinly veiled jibe, before massaging his tired muscles to prevent cramping, fully aware that the alien was watching him.

'You fight well mon-keigh,' she continued, 'it has been a while since anyone has bested me in combat.'

The Guardsman grunted in acknowledgement.

'Thank you, alien.'

The xeno feigned hurt, mesmerizing him with her alluring eyes.

'I do have a name, human.'

'And so do I,' he replied swiftly, 'and yet you brand me with the name of my race as if it were an insult.'

Turning away he once again recalled the events that happened the past few months.

'I don't even know what you are, the enemies of the Emperor that I have faced have been small rebel uprisings and minor greenskin incursions, now this massive invasion force comes knocking at our door and you show up with your alien filth. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.'

The silence after his words lasted for almost a minute before the alien began speaking.

'My proud race are the Sons of Asuryan, or the Eldar in your language.'

'Eldar,' he repeated, the name had a slick and oily feel on his tongue and yet familiar, he then recalled stories of the fickle elves that flitted across the Imperial domains from his mother. 'Your type were just legends, urban myths conjured up by raving lunatics, haunting the darkest stories of this planet.'

The Eldar threw her head back and laughed.

'Oh no Avery,' she mocked with her melodious voice, 'we are very much real, as real as the other horrors that your mind is too small to comprehend. Hah, how ignorant your race is to the greater workings of the galaxy. But tell me, what happened in these tales of yours?'

He looked at her as if she suddenly became mentally disabled.

'Your folk are wiped out by the Space Marines of course.'

The Eldar's eyes dimmed for a moment, the color now reminding him of the pond he used to play by as a child; mysterious and beautiful, as if knowing the dangerous foe that he spoke of, before the arrogance came back with a flash.

'The Space Marines, the Angels of Death, the Adeptus Astartes, of course those buffoons would run rampant through the histories of your planet. But, have you even seen one?'

'No.' he replied hesitantly.

'Then what doesn't make them just another story? It could be just another fabrication made by your folk to give themselves purpose in an otherwise meaningless life.'

The question caught him by surprise, having been spoon-fed the Catechisms of the Ecclesiarchy by charismatic preachers his whole life, leaving him to quickly formulate a logical reply to avoid looking foolish.'

'It is because they are far off,' he said, his voice sounding more certain than he felt, 'systems away, fighting the battles that really matter, far away from this isolated system.'

'And in the face of this invasion force that is undoubtedly large enough to carve a hole within the collection of systems you call the Imperium, why aren't they here? Where were they when millions died to the orks? Where were they when your soul cried out to your Emperor for deliverance, for salvation?'

The question shook him to the core of his being, his mouth fumbled on a few ideas but none found purchase on his tongue. Then he remembered the feeling of serenity that he had felt every time he knelt before an altar to the God-Emperor.

'But help has arrived,' he eventually replied, 'they are here now, divine intervention has finally arrived.'

'So your superiors say, it could be more lies, made to comfort their men in the face of an inexorable defeat. And isn't it a bit late? This help that you are receiving months after a call for relief is sent.'

'Lies or not, I still believe in the Emperor's will, we will fight His enemies until our dying breath.'

Her eyes widened slightly in disbelief.

'Even if you were facing a foe who would obliterate you?'

'Yes, fighting against impossible odds, having faith in the Emperor is all it takes to make a man.' he sternly replied with a tone of finality, recalling his father saying those same worlds the day he was taught to use a lasgun.

The Eldar regarded him curiously, she detected nothing but the truth within his words, this insignificant mon-keigh was changing the impression most of her race held of them for millennia.

'And that is why your race has waged war against almost everything for ten thousand years?' she asked incredulously, 'all because of a little faith?'

'Yes, we serve He who has sacrificed his entire being for the good of Mankind.'

Although the human's knowledge was very limited, his belief in them was staggering. Such certainty, something that she had broken for the merest moment, gushed from his mind, even the greatest of her race's Farseers didn't have such absolute belief to their frequent visions.

But there was one fact that he had wrong, but it was so profound that she was certain that he wouldn't believe it if she told it to him. Biting on her tongue she remembered something that Farseer Ida had told her a long time ago, that the only thing holding Mankind back was their religious belief that their greatest champion was a God, the potential within this infant race was equal or possibly greater than her own.

'What your race fails to get is that the Master of Mankind isn't a divine being.'

The Guardsman suddenly froze, his eyes widened behind his visor in rage.

'Be careful with what you say Eldar,' he spat, 'explain yourself.'

She sighed inwardly. The reaction, as a Farseer would have said, was so...predictable.

'What I am saying is that the Emperor isn't the God that quadrillions of people worship.' she said, ignoring the balled fists, 'Surely once in your life you must have wondered why an omnipotent, benevolent and omniscient God would allow such suffering to befall the galaxy. A good example would be right here, he could put an end to this madness and yet he's allowing countless millions of...honest citizens to die.'

'Because,' he said, recalling the priest's words about the Emperor shepherding Mankind into a better future, 'this is all a test to see who is worthy of eternal paradise, and all those who choose to end their lives early are denied access.'

The Eldar couldn't help but snort at the lines written by those who would be considered children to her long-lived race.

'And yet suicide does happen throughout the rest of your Imperium, and I do not think that being mutilated by a Khornate daemon, both in body and mind as your soul is consumed, would get you into the paradise that is sought by mankind.'

The mention of the blasphemous servant of Chaos made Avery instinctively raise his hand to make the four pointed Aquila, the last time he heard the unholy name was when the local priest was exorcising a foul spirit from the doorway of a church, the man had excised his taste buds with holy fire after banishing the imp.

He was relying on the knowledge that was ..._right_.,there had been no questions regarding the validity of the information for it had all been part of the norm. Looking around the store he could see the signs of religion permeating through society, small golden Aquila lamps hung from the walls with the talons of the mighty two-headed eagle grasping an orb that held an unlit wax candle.

Sheafs of paper rested on a shelf behind the counter, undoubtedly morning prayers to the God-Emperor. Such blind devotion, Avery could only think to himself.

He would have gone on believing like the rest if he wasn't having this conversation with the Eldar and if it weren't for the damn war, what was once unshakable was rapidly falling apart. It was as if someone was hammering nails into a coffin that represented all things sane in his life. He was almost too afraid to ask.

'Then what is He?'

'The Emperor is the first and greatest psyker that your race has ever known, his very body is host to thousands of souls that were his past lives back on that insignificant rock you call Old Terra.'

Avery looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of deceit and saw nothing but the truth.

The final nail was unmercifully smashed in.

...

The Dead Cliffs of Pandor. Surrounded by countless gulches and ravines, it is a hostile environment marked by a single chasm hacked into the rock by nature, shaped into the likeliness of a thunderbolt. A road less traveled, only the outcast hermits and the occasional refugees walk through this natural shortcut between the lands of Arca and the rest of the world. This is where the stage was set for a battle that would dictate the fate of the sector.

For a backwater planet, forgotten by all but the Administratum tithe collectors, the sudden strategic value confused the populace and the Segmentum administrators alike, but the authority of a Chapter Master and an Inquisitor was all that they needed to start sending troops. Four hundred Astartes, drawn from the Sagittarians Chapter, were reinforced by twenty armored and fifty infantry regiments of the Imperial Guard gathered from all over the Segmentum. They entrenched themselves at the mouth of the valley, prepared to face off against the seemingly unstoppable foe.

Over a million orks, flying banners from thousands of warbands, were united under the rule of an ork so terrifying that the rare survivors from his raids dubbed him the Bane of Pandor, and they were hurtling across the plains in a beeline towards the Imperials. Any previous restraint on the horde was removed to ensure maximum brutality and effectiveness in battle, their innate sense of fighting were thrown into overdrive as the promise of thousands of warriors on the other side of the valley was too much for any ork to bear.

Unless the ocean of green was defeated here, the entire Segmentum and the greater Imperium would receive a blow that would take decades, if not centuries, to repair. That was if the other enemies of the Imperium didn't take the opportunity to strike at the weakened empire. The greenskin menace would have to be stopped for the consequences of failure were something that the Sagittarians couldn't allow.

...

The assortment of black and blue Space Marines emerging from Thunderhawk III drew the eyes of all the Imperials in the vicinity, to see sixteen demigods striding out from the belly of a spacecraft was something that they didn't see everyday, even the Inquisitor and his personal retinue were ignored. But no other Marine drew more attention than the one leading the procession, the eldritch flames that played about his gauntlets and visor brought hushed whispers from the Guard, some reached into their flak plates and held onto holy trinkets for strength against such an abnormality.

'Quite the attraction I see,' came a new but familiar voice that cut through all the noise of preparation. Alexandro turned around to see Sergeant Octavius with his Devastator Squad, Lomaron, geared up for combat.

'Sergeant...sir,' he hastily replied, unsure of the protocol since his unusual elevation to the esteemed First Company.

'Sergeant will do for now son,' he said, letting a rare smile cross his face at the sight of the young Librarian's discomfort, 'you may have the reputation and all but I still the rank of veteran sergeant within this Chapter so calling me Craterus without my permission will get you in trouble.' He winked.

Alexandro grinned behind his faceplate.

'And the rest of my old squad, have they arrived yet?'

'Yes they did, about twenty minutes ago. I saw Patroclus, nasty business with his arm but I'm glad he took out the scum who dealt him that wound. Barely a year as a Space Marine and already sporting injuries that would make a veteran proud.'

'Is he at the infirmary?'

'Yes he is,' Octavius replied, 'the Inquisitor voxed in early so a replacement arm has already been made, the efficiency due to all the data you gave the techpriests whilst receiving the geneseed.'

Alexandro laughed.

'So there was more purpose to all that examining than just prodding us with rods.'

'Yes there was, and the others are undergoing the final tests to see if their implants have settled in properly, their power armor have been sent in from Chiron Beta via an escort ship this morning. Don't go hunting for them yet, it will spoil the surprise.'

'Not by much though,' the young librarian said, remembering the tempest of emotions that he had felt when seeing his armor for the first time.

'I guess not,' the sergeant agreed.

...

Patroclus clenched his right fist and bared his teeth in a soundless howl as his mutilated muscles shook and writhed beneath the surface of his shifting skin. Although his pain tolerance had been raised to superhuman levels, this nerve-burning agony was like nothing he had experienced before, even the initial act of his arm being cauterized didn't hurt so much! Acolytes were scurrying around his form as they fiddled around with the mechanical appendage currently being grafted onto his stump somewhat very painfully, normally the operation would have gone smoother with the surgeons paying more attention to the process, but in the current situation with the pivotal last stand just a few scant hours away, such luxuries were overlooked as efforts were spent preparing the wards for the thousands of casualties that would arrive over the course of the battle.

Nerve endings were spliced, skin was seared and flesh was torn to make room for the bionic arm. The occasional error would result in a light crimson spray of Astartes blood staining the canvas walls a few meters away and a growl from the suffering patient, but regardless of the mistakes, the limb was slowly but surely unifying with the shoulder of the Marine.

A few more minutes of agony and it was done. The machines slowly stopped whirring was the final seal was made and the swarming genetors in their red robes backed away letting Patroclus see the results for the first time. He tentatively attempted to move his new arm as the pain reduced to a dull throb, half expecting the phantom itch and unresponsiveness that had pervaded in the weeks since the day he lost his arm, but the appendage smoothly swung up with a thought and picked a switchblade off of a side table. A sharp whistling sound was soon heard as the knife was spun by his metallic hand at supersonic speeds, a couple of the surgeons backed off at the fearsome display of honed power.

'Has the new limb acclimatised Brother Marine?' asked the lead surgeon whilst lowering his hood to reveal a friendly face with wires criss-crossing it like tattoos, apparently unfazed by the lethality that now ran within the previously inanimate contraption.

'Yes it has,' Patroclus replied, punctuating his statement with a sudden break in the deadly dance of his fingers, flicking the switchblade towards the solid floor with a _crack_ and a _squeal_ as a native rodent was speared by the blade, 'it's just as good as my old arm was, although the gunmetal color will take a bit of getting used to.' he finished, frowning slightly.

'It is like that with all of our patients,' said the techpriest, smiling, 'slightly at odds with similar techpriests outside this sector or the Iron Hands chapter who would happily part with their flesh in favor of cold, hard metal.'

'I don't understand why anyone would want to replace an appendage or an organ with a bionic, it seems...' Patroclus trailed off, feeling uncomfortable in broaching a topic that would be considered 'sensitive' to the techpriests.

'Inhuman?' the surgeon finished with a laugh.

'Yes.'

'It is because all techpriests worshipping the Machine God aim to leaving all their humanity behind in favor of technology to be more united with it.'

'But isn't that a paradox? Embracing cold, calculating facts and yet worshipping a deity?'

When there was no immediate response, Patroclus hastily added.

'No offense, techpriest.'

The surgeon's purple eyes were unreadable for a moment and all of a sudden, as if waking from a dream, he replied with the same enthusiasm he had before, his lapse in concentration seemingly forgotten.

'Yes a twisted contradiction if I've ever seen one. It is something that our Archmagos, who currently resides in the Chiron system, has veered away from for the betterment Mankind.'

'Veered away from what exactly?'

'The taboo that is innovation without the guide from the STCs.'

'I don't understand.'

'I wouldn't expect you to, the inner workings of the Mechanicus is kept separate from the rest of the Imperium, our feuds can be as bad as the worst of your political struggles but we just cover it up. Only the higher echelons in our society as well as the Techmarines that the Astartes send to us can ever know the entire truth. The Adeptus Mechanicus as a whole worship STCs as holy nuggets of technology from our distant past in the Age of Strife, they are the only source of advancement we had in the past ten millennia and, since they are extremely rare, progress since times like the Horus Heresy have been very limited. And they despise any sort of deviance from this, fearing creativity and smothering our innate ability to question and advance, labeling those who do not follow their rules as heretics and members of the Dark Mechanicus; the equivalent of Chaos Space Marines to you Sagittarians.'

Patroclus couldn't help but shudder at the mention of his cursed and damned brethren, once noble Astartes who had forsaken their oaths to the Emperor in favor of the Chaos Gods.

'So could this lack of progress be a reason why the Black Crusades are so effective?' he asked once he gathered his thoughts on the matter.

'I wouldn't directly say _that_,' the Techpriest muttered, 'but it could be a reason.'

'But no matter how little we've advanced in the past ten thousand years, it should be enough to keep them in the Eye of Terror.'

'Remember who you are dealing with here Patroclus, Chaos Space Marines who have lived for millennia and highly unlikely to have spent much of that time idle, hordes of slavering daemons and deceived fools alike that run in the billions. Whatever we've made in the time since the Horus Heresy, they match it with sorcery and daemonic engines of hate and destruction, don't ever forget that.'

The young Sagittarian nodded.

'And yet I've seen some technology utilized by us that I do not see used by the forces of this planet or even the Deathwatch squad. And you earlier mentioned the Archmagos veering away from your general creed, doesn't that get you in trouble?'

'We are caught rarely because we bend a few rules and make a few loopholes to ensure the _legality _of our purposes.' the Techpriest said calmly.

Patroclus was opening his mouth to ask another question when the flaps to the room opened. Sunlight flooded into the semi-lit room as three other Marines walked in.

'Pat, when you're done talking to the Techpriest, we have a battle to fight, we're wasting daylight here.' said Cletus, grinning at the somewhat insulting nickname the squad came up for their acting sergeant. Patroclus squinted angrily as some of the acolytes in the room smiled unwillingly.

'Yeah I'm done, what are you louts doing here anyways?'

'Our esteemed Captain has asked us to split off the main force for a few minutes for something important.' said the smallest Astartes of the group, Sam, his tone suggesting that he was as confused as everyone else was on the matter.

'He told us to group up here for some tests,' said Rhode hoarsely, his throat still recovering from the operation that he underwent to remove the alien metal from his neck. Glancing at the techpriest, he evidently expected the man to know.

'Ah yes,' said the surgeon excitedly, who had picked up a blinking dataslate and was now skimming through the contents of the message, 'follow me.'

They followed in single file after the beckoning Techpriest to a room not too different from the geneseed testing facility back on Pabilsag.

They glanced at each other as they underwent the same tests that they underwent whilst undergoing the transformation into Astartes. Vials of their almost-bright blood were spun around in centrifuges, trains of numbers and bars were printed out and read by the Techpriest whose ecstatic mood was slightly worrying. Cables were plugged into the ports in their bodies to get to the Black Carapace and more readings were printed off from there. Although it was uncomfortable not knowing what they were here for, there were a lot of green lights so Patroclus guessed that it was a good thing.

At last the Techpriest turned around with a smile on his face.

'Good news Marines, you have passed all the tests, you are now ready.'

'Ready? Ready for what?' asked Sam warily.

But the man ignored him, quietly muttering to himself about a promotion.

...

Dozens of leagues away from the debating Marines, another scene was unfolding under the light of Pandor's single moon. In the calm air leaves rustled as the sizable force of Ulthwe Eldar moved stealthily under the cover of darkness, their matt-black armor blending them into the undergrowth of the local biome, hiding them from unwanted eyes.

The Dark Reaper Exarch led the contingent from the front with Ida by his side, he gripped his Tempest Launcher's handholds tightly for the slightest sign of danger. If the Farseer was true to her word, he was now part of something momentous for his craftworld, if not his entire race. The power this weapon promised would dwarf any other in magnitude, not even the cursed spear wielded by Prince Yriel of the Iyanden craftworld could hope to match it, the warrior got chills by even thinking about its immense potential and the opponents its dormant guardians would be...oh it was going to be _glorious_.

Farseer Ida abruptly took a sharp intake of breath, the column of Eldar halted immediately and stood to attention with a timing so precise that it would have any Imperial Guard drillmaster weep, the waiting troops cocked their ears to hear what their beloved leader had to say.

'It is close,' she whispered, her normally green eyes were now stormy grey as she was subjected to the invisible eddies and currents of time, 'very close.'

The tension that held all the warriors with anticipation went up a few notches. It took centuries of experience in self control to quell and smother the decadent emotions that threatened to burst forth from the assembled Eldar. The Farseer didn't seem to notice the sudden surge in emotion, her psychic third eye saw the shining beacon of pure energy erupting from underground a few miles away and marveled at the dazzling beauty of it, the danger it presented was so...alluring, so tempting.

She shook her head and returned to normal sight before looking at the same location.

'There it is.' she said, raising her arm and pointing to what the mon-keigh of this planet would call the residence of Lord Pandor.

...

She tosses and turns in her sleep, experiencing the nightmare once again. The same one that had recurred since that week, the very dream itself replaying the events as if to ensure that she never forgets.

As if she would...

She is in the forest once again, treading the well worn path back home, happy for a moment despite knowing what would happen because she is with...him. It happens again, the birdsong is silenced and the wind dies down, the leaves go brown and fall from the now-dead trees, time slows to a crawl and her vision warps before settling on a monster from the very gates of hell. A visage of twisted flesh and metal greets her, the smell of rust drowns out all others, and its size dwarfs anything she has seen before.

But the eyes, the fell orbs of burning hate and blood, are what she dreads the most. The malice that they show for everything alive, how could such a _thing_ of pure hate exist?

She tries to turn away, to break the connection between her and this monstrosity, but to no avail. Her gaze is fixated on those all-hating eyes. It smiles menacingly before pouncing at her.

She screams as its jaw hinges open and envelops her body.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, carnage and slaughter greets her eyes in the form of mountains of corpses and the twisted figures feasting within them, drinking deeply...

She finally awakens to find herself tied upon an altar decorated with an eight-pointed star in a dank cave with what was once a human watching over her, its rheumy eyes ever so hateful, it calls itself her savior, it grabs her chin and makes her follow his gaze. Whatever is left of her bile comes out of her mouth at the sight; fair maidens with bloated bellies screaming for release as their unholy children grow at an unnatural rate. The unwilling mothers will not survive the traumatic ordeal.

Her chin is brutally twisted back to meet the face of her 'savior' who acclaims that she will have a more wondrous fate, it talks of angels of the Gods it serves and of the power they possess. It tells her of their beautiful forms, existing in planes of existence and dimensions beyond this one. It tells her about their interest in the material universe and how certain rituals could summon them and cloak them in flesh so they could walk amongst mortals. And it finally whispers to her of how it will be _her_ flesh that their angel will be cloaked in.

'Why me?' she croaks, despite her exhaustion.

'Because, my dear,' it sneers, 'who else will sow as much mayhem and sorrow amongst your populace's ranks as Lady Sylvia Pandor?'

She shudders as it then trails its putrid tongue up her neck, the slick organ leaving a trail of green slime that begins to fester, before deeming her ready for ascension. Chanting ensues from the throats of a hundred slaves, the star glows and shimmers before sinking into itself, what is left is a tempest of colors and noises that threaten to tear her apart.

'Behold, from the warp,' the thing bellows as the cultists are shredded by the unnatural gale emerging from the portal, viscera being tossed around the cavern, 'one of our angels.'

She cries tears of blood at the being of sheer wrongness that emerges from the warp.

...

The Marines were led to a small clearing already occupied by two dozen acolytes in their hooded, red robes. There were four strangely shaped sarcophagi on each corner of the square field and the scouts could only wonder as to what lay within their shells.

'Normally there would be a ceremony within one of your ships or in the fortress monastery.' came the voice of the Techpriest from behind them, 'But under current circumstances, such things are impossible and so we'll have to make do with what we have.'

The man took out a roll of parchment from an adamantium tube and unfurled it, took a whiff of the paper for some unknown reason, and began reading.

'The bravery and courage displayed in this campaign against the vile greenskins has accelerated your induction process within the Chapter.'

At some hidden command, the acolytes rushed forward and split the Astartes from one another and ushered them to the individual sarcophagi, Patroclus had no choice but to follow. As he stood in front of it he realized that the visor of the obsidian structure was above his superhuman stature. Whatever it was, it was made for a Space Marine.

The Techpriest went on about their individual rolls of honor within the Chapter but the humming accompaniment by the acolytes soon put him in the background, the man didn't even notice, obviously it was some sort of honor for him to be reading that transcript.

Pneumatics hissed, spurting steam as the lid began to slide open and the clearing was temporarily bathed in light and sound.

'Four new Machine Spirits,' roared the Techpriest over the din, 'ready to bring the Emperor's wrath to his enemies, the final stages of your transformation from mortals to Space Marines have been completed!'

Patroclus barely heard the techpriest as a suit of Astartes armor emerged from the dying glow.

The Mark VIII Errant Armor was indeed the pinnacle of military technology, his eyes took in every aspect of the suit. Painted in the Sagittarian heraldry of deep blue with silver trim, it reminded him of the spark of hope in an otherwise dark galaxy that his Chapter represented. Emblazoned on the pauldrons were the markings of the Second Company as well as the Tactical Marine's arrow. His hearts swelled with pride by just looking at it, to be accepted as a member of the Second Company by Captain Raphael, as an Astartes, was an honor that few men would ever receive.

As he reverently placed his right palm on what would be _his _breastplate, Patroclus noticed three silver words written in the stylized calligraphy of High Gothic on his collar-plate: Brother Marine Patroclus, shimmering in the moonlight.

His hand made contact with the cool ceramite, moving his hand across the smooth material before feeling a sudden change in material, he looked down to see the Imperial Aquila. Fashioned from the lustrous silver native to the Chiron system, it stood resplendent at the center of the suit's chest, its two heads in constant vigilance for those who would threaten to destroy Mankind.

The newly elevated Marine could only gaze in awe at the suit, brimming with potential destruction, ready to deal retribution to the Emperor's enemies.

As the acolytes once again threatened to fill his vision with robes of red, he subconsciously handed his mace to a one with both hands outstretched respectfully. They began by stripping his now-defunct scout armor off his body before bringing a dark body glove for him to wear that reminded him of the black carapace implant that he received a week ago, he prodded at the shadow that swam under his skin to reassure himself that the geneseed was indeed there.

Once the second skin was donned the acolytes brought over parts of the Errant Armor that they efficiently dismantled as he put on the bodyglove, time was of the essence here, and they reassembled the suit around him from the ground up as if he were a monument being built, a testament to the endurance of Humanity. He then realized, as he placed the snarling helmet on his head, that it was precisely what he was going to be, a demigod of war incarnate, Mankind's greatest defender, a Space Marine.

The backpack was activated and power surged into his limbs.

...

**Author's note: **Thats the end of Chapter 11 (The second Chapter over the summer), hope you guys liked it, as you can tell from the Sylvia's dream scene that I've added a bit to the plot that you will not find in the previous chapters where Alexandro just fights off a few Khornate hellhounds but I'm going to change those chapters soon enough, as soon as the impetus of ideas slows down. I'm starting to get an idea of where this fanfic will get to in the end, but I need ideas as to how I fill in the middle. Ideas from you guys hopefully if you haven't given up on me already. I've kinda made a plan on spending one to two hours a day on this fanfic, writing about a thousand words in that time and making an update every Sunday morning or afternoon with a Chapter varying from five to ten thousand words in length (they're just estimates so I don't know how well I'll do.) I even got my laptop calender ready to scream at me if I fail to make the deadlines. Meeting deadlines, thats something I have to work on, and I will starting here.

Oh and I forgot to mention in the last Chapter why it's been delayed even further since the start of the holidays; internet's been all crazy on me this past month, its been fixed now so yeah... :D

And to my reviews:

**Some101 **- Hey, thanks for the advice. Although I'm sad to see the stars and the '~' symbol doesn't work either, I've settled on the ellipses and I guess it will have to do. I'll re-upload all the previous Chapters some other time, probably after I edit the beginning of this fanfic.

**Colonelwalrus **– Thank you for the list of reviews, this is the type that I've been waiting for a long time; analytical with suggestions. I guess a lengthy review should have a lengthy reply.

I didn't know exactly how many people were actually waiting for me to upload a Chapter. No I haven't died as of yet, and as you will see by my notes before and after the Chapters, uploads will be much more frequent. From your feedback I realize that I still have a few bits and pieces to polish regarding my knowledge on the lore. I've assumed that each squad within the Thunderhawk had eight Marines, so my bad if the Deathwatch squad numbers at five. But what I also think I've failed to mention was that the Inquisitor and his retinue of Interrogators and serfs also boarded the Thunderhawk at the time. Personally I'd like to think that an Astartes in full power armor would be a few inches shy of three meters in height, the Sagittarians a foot taller due to their mutations so that should satisfy your curiosity on the Thunderhawk scene.

I like your enthusiasm shown towards the new character, I've played around with the idea of having an unusual Guardsman in the mix to nullify the overpowered Librarian that has been the main character of this fanfic for a while, finally here it is and the next few chapters will show him predominantly with his Eldar buddy, he'll be exposed to the history of the Eldar as well as their beliefs quite soon. Although this final battle is several hours away, I will not be writing on it for a while, I'm currently fleshing out the characters that I have as well as planning ahead on where I want to go. So don't expect it for a couple of Chapters.

My knowledge on Tau has always been scarce, and my bad attempt to introduce one to this fanfic has been caught red handed. Lengthy Tau names, ugh they're such a pain, almost as bad as the Custodes...I can tell you right now that they won't have much of an impact on the plot, just setting up the tension for the final battle for Pandor.

The Sagittarians adhere to the Codex Astartes quite strictly, although they aren't too happy with it as they are (for the sake of the fanfic) one of the few Chapters guarding the North-eastern part of Segmentum Ultima against the horrors that assail it as the others have bunked off to the Eye of Terror or to the south to combat the Hive Fleets. So of course they will have Vanguard and Sternguard veterans as well as Assault Marines. Hm, Roland Berechon, a nice name. Unique and rolls off the tongue well. I will incorporate it into the fanfic one way or another, but do not expect to see a Vanguard Brother-Corporal Roland Berechon popping up anytime soon.

And as for your final point, the Sagittarians have always been under scrutiny by powers such as the Inquisition for reasons that will make themselves known soon. Other Chapters aren't very comfortable in fighting alongside a Chapter with stronger and more durable Marines, it kinda degrades them a bit. The fiasco with Hadrian is because of another reason that will make itself known in due time.

Thanks for the detailed review, I hope I will get more of this from you in the chapters to come.

**Pixo **– If you've read up to here yet, heres my response. I'll heed your advice about putting the author's note as well as the feedback comments to the end of the Chapters. I know about Chapter breaks too well, they were there until a while back but they've suddenly disappeared recently and now I'll have to make do with a new symbol, hoping that it won't vanish once I upload the new Chapter online.

As you will see I will write a lot more on the Guardsman as well as putting the Space Marines through one hell of a fight that they'll remember.

And I do have plans for the mercenary story, I might write a Chapter on it soon but I can't promise a full-blown story just yet. Thanks for your review.

As stated in the previous Chapter, feedback is something I need otherwise I could be writing a whole load of garbage without knowing it. I want to know what you think, what you want me to change, either in the plot or my writing style (and I agree I do have a few mistakes) etc etc.

I've also allowed people without accounts to give reviews, still hesitant about this decision and I will rescind the opportunity if there is spam or trash talking.

The polls will be up soon so get ready to make a change as there will be a lot. Don't worry, I'll make reasonable and mature choices.

And finally,** I've opened a forum dedicated to this fanfic** (for those of you who bother and for those of you who've read all the way down here, its in bold.) and since it can be edited by you guys, I'm hoping that it will get a lot of reviews as well as satisfying your curiosity regarding this story. I'll start off a few topics soon enough and I'll dedicate a portion of my day replying to these questions if things start happening with it.


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